


Under an Emerald Sky

by ravendas



Series: The Lion, the Griffon, and the Rose [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Awkward Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, First Time, Flashback/Dream Sex, Flashbacks, Fluff and Humor, Inquisitor Amell (Dragon Age), Lyrium Addiction, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Multiple, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Warden Inquisitor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-02-08 00:36:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 93,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12852930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravendas/pseuds/ravendas
Summary: Ten years ago, she had helped end the Blight. After re-establishing the Grey Wardens in Amaranthine, Hyperia Amell disappeared without a trace...until the day the Temple of Sacred Ashes exploded and the sky was torn asunder.She had already saved Thedas once and was content to retire in obscurity...but it seemed fate was not quite done with her yet. Nor was a certain Commander from her past.(AU HoF-becomes-The Inquisitor with my canon Circle Mage from"A Mage of the Grey".)





	1. Search Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lowly cutpurse stumbles upon the one person who could either save the world...or destroy it...
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_And I looked up and saw_  
_The seven gates of the Black City shatter,_  
_And darkness cloaked both realms._

_-Exaltations 1:9_

The verse from the Chant came unbidden into Trentan Greel’s mind. He’d never had much use for religion, but it was impossible not to think of how the Chantry always said that the Maker had forsaken humanity while trudging through the blasted remains of what had been His Temple. All was eerily silent aside from the whistling of the wind and the crunch of boots upon the blackened ground. Trentan was one of a group of five, tasked to search the Temple for any survivors or clues to what had caused the catastrophic destruction.

His vision blurred for a moment, whether caused by the unremitting swirl of ashes kicked up by their footsteps or unshed tears at what had happened here, he was not sure. He was both grateful and not for the fact that he had not known anyone who had been at the Conclave personally. It was the reason he had been sent out on this task along with a few others who had no ties to anyone who had been here. It was deemed too painful to allow anyone with friends or loved ones to see this….carnage. Not to mention, Trentan had a knack for….finding things.

The scene was like something out of a nightmare: twisted fingers of blackened rock thrust towards the sky, emanating the same pulsing emerald glow as the swirling vortex that breeched the sky directly overhead; charred corpses, still silently screaming their agony to the heavens; the once-intricate stonework, now shapeless rubble.

Suddenly, Trentan felt a prickling of the hairs at the nape of his neck. A split second later, the air pressure changed, as a streak of emerald-green energy shot from the sky. The group lunged back instinctively at the sharp crystalline crackle accompanying a smaller vortex of energy that began to form in their midst. One of the trio of Inquisition soldiers who accompanied their motley group retained enough clarity of mind to call out over the din, “Rift!”, as the three drew their swords.

Trentan backed away slowly, every instinct screaming at him to run. He wasn’t a soldier or even a fighter, just some unlucky street dweller who had been conscripted into this nightmare. His hand shook as he drew a small knife from his belt. It was good for little else besides severing purse strings and he had no idea why he even bothered. _What am I going to do against a demon?_

The vortex expanded, offering a glimpse into the Fade beyond for but a moment. Trentan found his feet edging him forward once more, curiosity overriding common sense. The glowing figure of a woman stood within the portal, unmoving. Trentan had heard that there were such things as Desire demons and that they sometimes took the shape of alluring women. _If that’s the last thing I see before I die, it’ll be worth it._

But then the glowing figure was blocked by a second silhouette that took form as it staggered from the rift. Trentan was afforded only a glimpse of a second woman, with red hair and dressed not in the revealing garb of a demon, but in the distinctive silver-and-blue armor of a Grey Warden. The soldiers closed in, swords pointed at her and ready to strike. The rift closed with a crackling rumble as the woman took a stumbling step forward, then collapsed in an unconscious heap upon the ground.

Any urge there might have been to rush to her aid was stifled by the flickering energy engulfing her left hand. _It looks like the same stuff coming out of the hole in the sky_ , Trentan mused to himself. Was she the person who did all of this? His thoughts were interrupted by one of the soldiers’ sharp yell, “You! Go find a Templar…or a mage! NOW!” More than happy to be away from the presence of the strange woman, Trentan took off at a run, not really knowing where he was going, but he figured he’d just run until he found someone.

It took less time than he had thought to find someone. Even so, he was quite winded when he managed to stumble across the Inquisition Commander himself, arguing with what appeared to be an elven mage. The erstwhile thief pulled up short of the pair, hesitant to interrupt, but the Commander silenced the elf with a sharp gesture.

“Enough!” The blonde-haired Commander turned to Trentan, who was still trying to catch his breath, “What is it?”

“Rift…woman….fell out….but….has some kind….of magic….thing on her hand.” The cutpurse managed to get out between breaths.

The Commander scowled and exchanged a look with the bald-headed elf, who only canted a brow at the human, but even Trentan could feel the self-satisfaction oozing from the mage. “Perhaps I can be of some service after all”, the elf stated in a smooth tone, entwined with a melodic accent that Trentan could not place. _Dalish?_ The street thief had never encountered one of the so-called “wild elves” before, but this fellow certainly looked the part: garbed in simple homespun in earth tones, with a strange jawbone pendant hanging about his neck, and angular features that had a sort of quiet, yet powerful serenity to them.

“Very well, but I will be watching you, mage.” Trentan noticed that the last word seemed to be spat out with more than a bit of distrust. Not that he could blame the man; if you believed the rumors, a mage started the whole crazy war in the first place. And he had heard whispers that the Commander had actually been in Kirkwall when it all began…and had been a Templar, at that. _Smug elf doesn’t know how lucky he is that the Commander doesn’t just skewer him on that big sword of his just for the sheer fact that he exists._

The trio took off at a quick jog, with Trentan in the lead, until they reached the spot where the woman still laid unmoving, the soldiers warily circling her like a pack of lions waiting to pounce on their next meal. The elven mage started to slip around them, but was halted by the Commander’s gauntleted hand and subsequent narrow-eyed glare.

“Not so fast, mage”, he growled, asserting himself between the elf and the woman’s prone form. A scowl briefly crossed the elf’s slender features before dissipating back into their usual placidity. Turning towards the soldier, the Commander snapped quickly, “Report.”

The man who had ordered Trentan to find a Templar stepped forward, “Sir! A rift opened and this woman came out of it. There was…another woman, I think, glowing behind her. We couldn’t see who or what it was. It just opened, she fell out, took one step, then passed out and the rift closed.”

Canting his head to Trentan, Cullen queried, “He mentioned that she has some sort of magic…on her hand?”

The soldier glanced sidelong at the crackling energy enveloping the woman’s hand at the Commander’s query. “No idea, sir. It hasn’t done anything that we’ve seen so far. It was like that when she fell out of the rift.”

Trentan watched as the soldiers parted for the Commander who stopped dead in his tracks as soon as his gaze feel upon the woman, his eyes widening. “Maker’s breath! It can’t be….”

The Commander cautiously moved to kneel at the woman’s side and gently rolled her over onto her back, the expression of sheer amazement growing over his normally-stern features. Following his gaze, Trentan saw the woman’s face for the first time…and his confusion at the Commander’s reaction deepened. The woman was…pretty, with high cheekbones, full lips and tanned skin…but she wasn’t so incredibly gorgeous to warrant such an extreme response from someone like the Commander who had nearly every woman in the village making doe-eyes at him. But he was staring at her like she was Andraste Herself…which started Trentan’s mind turning.

_She fell out of a rift…from the Fade. And the shining woman behind her…? Was that Andraste?! And so this means she’s some sort of…Divine messenger, maybe?_

Apparently, he could feel the curious stares surrounding him, for the Commander quickly recovered and seemed to concentrate for a moment. The glow subsided ever-so-slightly for a few seconds before flaring once more, causing everyone to startle reflexively and wrenching a quiet whimper of pain from the still-unconscious woman’s lips. The breach overhead rumbled ominously in seeming reply.

The elf stepped forward cautiously, ignoring the soldiers who tensed and flicked their wary gazes between him and the prone woman. “It is obvious that this…mark on her hand is somehow tied to the Breach.” The Commander turned his attention back to the mage, a drawn weariness suffusing his features that had not been there before. Before he could reply, the elf continued, “It may be the key to closing it.”

“Or it could make it worse….” He waved off the elf’s unspoken retort, “But you could be right. We have no way of knowing more until she wakes up and tells us what this…thing is. We need to get her to a healer…which means back to Haven.” It was obvious from his tone that the Commander did not like this idea at all. And Trentan couldn’t blame him; if this strange woman and her even stranger hand had caused all this, then couldn’t she just destroy Haven as easily as the Temple?

All the while, the elven mage had subtly positioned himself beside the woman and was frowning intently at the mark on her hand. “I believe I can ward the magic enough to keep it from flaring up on the journey back. It seems….mostly dormant, aside from its reaction to the Breach.”

The Commander looked skeptical for a moment, then rose to his feet, making room for the elf, but drawing his sword nonetheless. “Very well, but the first sign of….” The elf waved him off with an idle gesture as he smoothly knelt at the woman’s side. “Yes, I understand. I am not a fool.” Even before he finished speaking, a wisp of bluish energy flowed from the elf’s slender fingers, encircling the woman’s hand and wrist. This time, the greenish energy did subside and seemed to absorb itself into her skin.

Trentan had not realized that he had been holding his breath until he heard one of the soldiers release a shaky exhalation. The elf rose to his feet, appearing rather pleased with himself, while the Commander eyed him with a faint wariness. “And you are sure this will last until we reach Haven? When we get there, will it be ten times worse?”

The mage shrugged, “I do not know exactly what sort of magic this is, so I can make no guarantees. Nevertheless, I will accompany her on the journey back to ensure the ward remains stable and replenish it if the need arises.”

The Commander scooped the woman up in his arms with one easy motion. “Let’s go”, he said to the elf, turning briefly to address the rest of the group, “Continue the search.” Trentan stifled a weary sigh before being halted in his tracks by the Commander’s voice once more, “Not you. Run ahead and alert the healer. Then find Lady Cassandra and Leliana, and tell them…tell them what has happened…and that we have found the Hero of Ferelden. Go!”

The former cutpurse nodded vigorously before taking off, his mind in a whirl as every instinct screamed that everything was about to change. _So that’s who she is?! Maker, what have I gotten myself into…?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This originally started out as a one-shot short story, using the word prompt of "Search". But the more I wrote, the more I decided to just break down and finally start the DA:I fic I'd been wanting to write ever since ideas for my canon Trevelyan started swirling through my brain. I thought it might be a nice change of pace to narrate the chapters from different POVs instead of sticking solely to the Inquisitor's. Especially since I just finished playing through DA2 for the first time in forever and picked up lots of little tidbits that tied in to DA:I and would make good flashback fodder.


	2. Debate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick bit of conversation between Cassandra and Cullen (with appearances by Varric and Solas as well) leading up towards the opening scene in the dungeon. I will probably be doing lots of these little "fill-in-the-blanks" chapters so that it doesn't end up being just rehash of the game. I enjoy pondering what might have been happening in the background.
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“Tell me you are joking!” Cullen Rutherford’s voice echoed his disbelief through the small Chantry room as he paced before a tall dark-haired woman, clad in the armor of a Seeker of Truth.

Cassandra Pentaghast, former Right Hand of the Divine, fixed him with a bland narrow-eyed stare, “Do I _look_ like I am joking, Commander?”

Of course, Cassandra rarely ever joked, especially now, so Cullen surmised that he wouldn’t have even known it if she had been. But this was neither the time nor the place to point that out. He raked a hand through his hair, a restless gesture he had never been able to shake…and one that only served at this point to exacerbate the headache that was threatening to build at the back of his neck.

“But throwing her…the Hero of Ferelden…in the dungeon? That’s your solution?” As soon as word had reached Cassandra concerning the woman found within the Temple, she had immediately ordered a contingent of _his_ Templars to bring her still-unconscious body to the Chantry and locked her in one of the cells beneath it. The elven apostate, Solas, had been… compelled, for lack of a better term, into remaining at her side to keep the strange magic at bay and to keep watch over her physical condition. It hadn’t helped matters that Varric Tethras, the dwarven “storyteller” with whom Cullen was acquainted with from Kirkwall, kept hovering about, no doubt in search of a new tale. Cassandra’s nerves were on edge, which somehow managed to put everyone else’s nerves on edge. Cullen was quite sure that she wouldn’t be reasoned with at this point, but he still felt he had to try.

“I would think that you, of all people, would understand taking severe measures against the potential of dangerous magic. I know that she _looks_ like the Hero of Ferelden…and Maker be praised if it really is her….but, for all we know, she could be a demon impersonating her.”

Cullen flinched and forced back an angry scowl. Now she was just playing dirty, bringing up his past ordeals with magic, both in Kirkwall and the Ferelden Circle. It didn’t help to be reminded of that one particular torment that had been inflicted upon him. Though he had tempered his prejudices somewhat over the past year or so, he still retained a strong distrust of magic and mages in general. Before he could speak, Cassandra continued, her tone softening almost imperceptibly.

“I know you have a...history with her, from back at the Circle.”

“Yes, I knew her…but not well”, he finally admitted, gesturing dismissively. “I was present at her Harrowing and…when she reclaimed the tower after Uldred’s…invasion.” Even as he spoke, he knew he wasn't fooling the Seeker. She had already recounted some of his more coherent ramblings while he was going through the worst of the lyrium withdrawal on the way to Haven...and more than a few of them had mentioned her.

 If she felt the need to call him out for it, she nevertheless refrained, not wishing to dig into that particularly painful wound, “So the question remains, Commander: Do you trust that she is in no way responsible for this and does not pose a danger to us at all?”

His shoulders slumped slightly with the realization that Cassandra had the upper hand here. “I…no, to be honest, I don’t. But she is the Hero of Ferelden…the person you were looking to lead this Inquisition. I couldn’t imagine why or even how she could do something like this.”

“Of course not”, there was no accusation, no sarcasm in Cassandra’s voice, “but we have no way of knowing if perhaps someone else did this to her…either with or without her knowledge. Or if that's even her at all. As far as we all knew, she wasn’t even anywhere near the Conclave. Until she regains consciousness, we can only guess. So, until then, she stays in her cell where the potential damage is hopefully kept to a minimum.”

Had he still been a member of the Templar order, Cullen would have been forced to acquiesce to Cassandra’s demand. As both a Seeker of Truth and the Right Hand of the Divine, she would have vastly outranked him. However, as the Inquisition’s military Commander, he was now considered her equal. Nevertheless, he was forced to reluctantly agree with her assessment. “Very well. I will be at the forward camp. Send a raven if you need me for anything.”

It didn’t take much for Cassandra to pick up on his unspoken “or if she wakes up”, but opted not to comment on it as he turned to leave.

“Seeker…Commander, a moment?” The elven apostate’s voice echoed softly from the doorway, capturing the attention of them both.

“What is it, Solas?” Cassandra’s voice held more than a faint hint of irritation. The elf had insisted that his studies of the woman’s “mark” would provide some insight into closing the rifts that had begun to appear throughout the area, and possibly the Breach itself, but thusfar he had produced no results and Cassandra’s patience with him was rapidly coming to an end.

“If I may accompany the Commander, I believe I might have a solution that could prove useful. But I shall need to study one of the rifts in order to determine if it is indeed feasible.”

“You ‘believe’ that you ‘might’ have something that ‘could’ be useful? I am tired of excuses. We have kept you around because you claim to know something about what is happening and can supposedly aid us in finding a solution, but so far you have accomplished nothing.” Cassandra fixed Solas with a baleful glare, but the elf remained unfazed.

“I have kept the mark upon her hand from literally devouring her and causing her death. I would hardly say that is ‘nothing’.”

The scowl on Cassandra’s face deepened. “What would happen if she died?”

“There would be nothing at all to stop the Breach from growing and it would eventually swallow the world.” An uncanny sort of gravity weighed heavily upon his words, his gaze meeting the Seeker’s unflinchingly.

“So you’re saying that her mark and the Breach are tied directly to each other? And that your magic is the only thing holding it at bay? And that I’m supposed to let you just walk out of here…?” Cassandra’s voice raised with incredulity, nearing an almost-unstable pitch before Solas waved her off.

“The wards I have set will not need to be renewed for another day and I plan to return long before then. If she wakes before I return, then I would suggest you handle her carefully. I do not know how much control she has over the mark. But with the wards in place, it should not pose a problem.”

“More uncertainty. You are not providing me with much encouragement, elf.”

“I apologize, Seeker, but I cannot give any more encouragement than is warranted. If you do not feel my insights are trustworthy, then….”

Cassandra uttered a disgusted huff, “Enough, Solas. Just go. And make sure you come back with something useful for once.”

“I think I’ll join you gentlemen as well….if that’s alright with the Seeker”, the all-too-familiar voice of the dwarf, Varric piped up from the doorway behind Solas. Cassandra fixed him with a baleful glare which he returned with his characteristic attempt at a charming smile.

“Yes, yes….take the dwarf. Find some way to toss him into a rift. That would be useful…” Her voice faded as she strode back down the stairs to the dungeon, leaving the trio of men to head out into the snowy evening.

\-----------------

The next morning, a tentative knock sounded upon Cassandra’s door, accompanied by the hesitant voice of one of the elven servants. “Lady Cassandra?”

“Yes, come in, Alara.” The Seeker rubbed the sleep from her eyes once more. She had already been awake for over an hour, pouring over the lists of names accumulated of those who had been at the Conclave. _All dead now…except the Hero of Ferelden…who wasn’t even noted as being there in the first place._

Almost as though her thoughts had triggered something, the elf piped up eagerly, “You told me to tell you when the lady prisoner woke up. One of the Templars said that she’s awake now.”

Whatever weariness might have remained was swiftly dispelled with those words. “Go tell Leliana, quickly!”

“I already did, Mistress Cassandra. I saw her in the hallway on the way here.” A hint of pride snuck into the elven girl’s normally-timid demeanor.

“Good. Thank you.” With that, Cassandra took off towards the dungeon at a quick jog. By the time she arrived, Leliana had apparently already arranged for the woman to be brought from her cell and shackled.For she sat kneeling and only semi-conscious in the middle of the stone floor, surrounded by a trio of Templars all watching her warily. Cassandra couldn't help but be a bit surprised.  _Former friend or no, it seems Leliana is taking no chances._

Even as she had the thought, a shadow detached itself from the wall to lay a restraining hand upon Cassandra’s arm. It took a sheer act of will for the Seeker not to cry out in surprise at Leliana's touch. _No matter how long I have known her, she still manages to sneak up on me._ Silently, the Inquisition’s spymaster placed a small rolled-up slip of paper into her hand, accompanied by a meaningful glance towards the prisoner. Her curiosity piqued, Cassandra quickly read over the message:

_Cassandra,_

_Solas has arrived at some sort of breakthrough regarding the rifts and requests that you bring Lady Amell to him as soon as she wakes up. He will be awaiting you on the road to the forward camp._

_Cullen_

“I am not taking her anywhere until we find out more”, Cassandra whispered quietly.

“Of course not. I would have been greatly surprised if you just handed her over to the elf”, the Orlesian woman’s delicately-accented voice held a faint trace of amusement. “Balthar’s Gambit?”

Cassandra slanted a gaze to Leliana, her lips unable to contain an ironic smirk. _Of course, she’d want me playing the harsh interrogator. No surprise really, considering that if this really is the Hero of Ferelden, she and Leliana were friends once. If anyone could determine what’s going on and if that's really her, it would be Leliana._

_Ugh, enough ruminating on the past_ , Cassandra berated herself as she approached the kneeling woman. _Let’s get this over with…_


	3. The Mark of Andraste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyperia Amell awakens in the dungeons beneath Haven to find the world is in chaos (again), but this time she is the prime suspect.

_Where am I?_

Hyperia Amell awoke to darkness, cold and the sound of…water?...being poured. “Drink”, a woman’s voice insisted as a metal cup was pressed into her hand. It tasted odd, but she still downed it eagerly.

The haziness in her head did not seem to want to clear and she found herself unresisting as cold steel was clamped around her wrists and she was half-drug from her cell.

_Prison? The voice was…Orlesian. And familiar?_ She couldn’t get her head to clear enough to figure it out. _Am I in Orlais? Why?_

She couldn’t seem to focus as she was lowered to the floor to settle upon her knees, facing a door. Indistinct shapes surrounded her, the glint of sharp metal glimpsed in the hazy sunlight that filtered through a grate overhead. Everything seemed to throb with a dull ache…except her left hand. There she felt a tingling, a strange prickling like strings of glass pulsing through her veins. Even as her gaze fell to the bound appendage, a green glow flickered and sparked across her palm, eliciting a sharp intake of surprised breath from her.

_What in the Maker..?!_

Metal-shod feet shuffled in restlessness around her even as a new pair strode into her view….but only for a moment as their bearer circled around behind her. A woman’s voice hissed vehemently into her ear. A different voice, with a heavy Nevarran accent this time and lacking the strange familiarity of the first.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now!”

Hyperia could not help but flinch away from the sheer emotion behind to woman’s words. But she had no time to consider the accusation, let alone respond, as the woman continued her tirade, circling Hyperia like a cobra about to strike.

“The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who was attending it is dead…. _except you_.”

The statement hit Hyperia like a sack of bricks, her mind snapping to full clarity with the implications of those few uttered words.

“How? Why? Everyone…?”

The woman gave no answer, only lunging down to grasp the shackles to drag Hyperia’s still-glowing hand into her view. “Explain _this_!” Even as the words were spat from her lips, a surge of energy crackled and sparked, engulfing her hand, causing the woman to abruptly release it and the Templars to shuffle tensely.

“I…I can’t! I don’t know what it is or how it got there!”

A second figure then began circling her. Also a woman, she was clad in a set of finely-tooled leather armor, a hood pulled up to only partially cover her delicate features and red hair. Hyperia fought to catch more than a glance of the familiar-seeming woman. But the first woman was determined to not allow her to regain her bearings as she lunged for her again, angrily yelling in her face. “You’re lying!”

But before she could continue, the red-haired woman pulled her away, addressing her in a quiet yet firm tone, with the same delicate Orlesian accent Hyperia had heard earlier…and knew, “Cassandra. Enough.”

“Leliana?! What is--?!”

Seemingly ignoring her cry of recognition, Leliana stepped into view before her, the hood obscuring her features eerily, a slight saddened curl to her lips beneath her implacable features. “Do you remember what happened? How all of this began?”

Hyperia attempted to sift through the jumbled images in her mind. Everything was still so…indistinct, like a bad dream. The Conclave itself…was even moreso. Like something imagined from a story told long ago, and not something she knew she had experienced first-hand.

“I…don’t know. The last thing I remember was…running?” Again, that stubborn haze seemed to filter over the memories, rendering everything indistinct. “Things…awful things…were chasing me. But there was…a woman. She…helped me.” Hyperia shook her head in frustration, “I can’t remember!”

Leliana exchanged a brief glance with Cassandra, who offered a barely-perceptible nod in return and turned to address the spymaster, “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift.”

_The rift? What are they talking about? What is going on?!_

Hyperia barely restrained herself from lunging after her former friend to demand answers as Cassandra knelt before her to unlock the shackles and rebind her wrists with simple rope. The dark-haired Seeker grasped her arm, aiding her to stand, and Hyperia could not restrain her curiosity.

“What did happen? Where are you taking me?”

Some of the earlier harshness faded from the Seeker’s face as she led her prisoner towards the door. “It would be better…if I showed you.”

Curiosity warred with apprehension as Cassandra pushed the door open and Hyperia squinted in the suddenness of the sunlight flooding in. The Seeker gave her a slight nudge forward and she stepped into the cold, bright morning, blinking to allow her eyes to slowly adjust. A faint rumble sounded overhead, and she frowned in confusion. _A storm? But it seems too sunny for a…_

Her thought ended abruptly as her gaze lifted upward towards the sky to fix upon the swirling vortex that dominated it and the snaking tendrils of pulsing energy that emanated from it, reaching straight down into the center of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Realization began to slowly assert itself as she noticed that the flickers of lightning that illuminated the thick clouds pulsed in harmony with the energy upon her hand.

_Oh Maker’s balls….tell me that I did not do that…_

“We call it the Breach.” Cassandra spoke quietly from beside her, her gaze also drawn to the tear in the sky. “It is a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift…but it is the largest. All of them were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

“An explosion?” Hyperia shook her head with incredulity. She had heard tales of how Anders used some sort of magic to destroy the Kirkwall chantry, but that was nothing compared to this. “How can an explosion do that?”

“We don’t know…only that this one did. And unless we act, the Breach will continue to grow until it swallows the world.” Almost as if on cue, a sharp crack resounded from the Breach, the energy surrounding it flaring brightly. Hyperia could not restrain a scream as the tingling in her hand exploded into an agony that felt like shards of electrified glass were being pulled through her flesh, the mark surging with magic to echo the sky above.

She did not even realize through the pain that she had fallen to her knees until it had subsided somewhat and her gaze alighted upon Cassandra who knelt beside her, urgency writ upon her angular features, “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads….and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

Hyperia’s eyes lingered upon her hand as the crackling energy faded back into a faintly pulsing glow, her thoughts in turmoil. Part of her was screaming that she needed some time to breathe, to process all of this. It had been ten years since the Blight…ten long years that she had filled with whatever undertaking she could find, the more mundane the better, to shed the whole “Hero of Ferelden” burden she had been saddled with. The last thing she wanted was to be expected to save Thedas…again. She had only wanted to find a cure to the Calling, then settle down somewhere in anonymity. Even so, she found she couldn’t run away from this…as much as she wanted to.

“Very well”, she heaved a weary sigh, bitterness lacing her words,"It seems I have little choice...again."

Cassandra shot her a look of mixed surprise and irritation, "None of us have a choice". Apparently, she had expected more enthusiasm from the woman who had killed the Archdemon and ended the Fifth Blight. With that, the Seeker took her by the arm to guide her through the village. Angry glares and harsh whispers mixed with the incredulous looks of townsfolk that followed their route to the front gates, but Cassandra steered her through the throngs, speaking in low tones.

“They know who you are, but even so have already decided your guilt. They need it…need someone to blame for this. Our Most Holy, Divine Justina, is dead….along with all who attended the Conclave…and they mourn.” There was the slightest hitch in her voice, and Hyperia thought she could almost hear the unshed tears the Seeker was holding back.

She fell silent until they were out of the gates and past the village. As they approached the bridge crossing the river, she continued, “We lash out like the sky, but we must think beyond ourselves as she did. Until the Breach is sealed, none of us are safe.” She placed a restraining hand on Hyperia’s arm and, with one swift motion, cut the bonds upon her wrists. There was….something…in her eyes as she met Hyperia’s gaze. Sympathy? “There will be a trial. I can promise no more. Come…we must see what this ‘mark’ of yours can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is essentially just a rehash of the gameplay, but I need to get from point A to point B, so it was necessary. Next chapter will switch POVs again for a little Varric/Solas/Cullen banter.


	4. Some Things Never Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric, Solas and Cullen make their way to the rift to test Solas' theory. Varric's teasing brings up uncomfortable memories for Cullen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, this takes place between chapters 2 and 3, but the next chapter will tie all of these together when Hyperia and Cassandra meet up with Varric and Solas.

“So Curly, I hear you know our mysterious woman from the Fade?” Varric’s voice broke through the sound of the steady crunch of boots trudging through the snow-covered landscape.

Cullen was grateful that he was in the lead, so that the dwarf could not see the pinched scowl that crossed his face…and even moreso to hear the elven apostate, Solas, interrupt with a puzzled query.

“Why do you call him ‘Curly’?”

“Because…you should have seen him in Kirkwall. His hair…it was…”

“Curly, I assume?”

“Very. But you’re distracting from the question, Chuckles. Let the man talk.”

Cullen released an irritated huff, “Of course I do…as do you…she’s the Hero of Ferelden.”

“Yes, but you were both at Ferelden's Circle together before she became a Warden, weren't you?”

“Yes”, he rattled off impatiently, hoping that would make an end to the dwarf’s inquiry.

“And wasn't she the one who rescued the tower when everything went to hell in a handbasket?” Varric continued persistently.

The dwarf could almost hear the Commander’s eyes rolling even with his back turned, “Yes…and? Why does it matter? Is this going to be part of another one of your books?”

“Depends on how juicy it gets”, Varric offered teasingly.

“You'd be disappointed then.”

“Oh, really?" He paused for a moment before continuing in a sly tone, "'The young, handsome Templar, saved from demons by a beautiful mage who he had barely noticed before'....could be interesting.”

“Maker’s breath, Varric, if you think that constantly prodding me about this is going to get me to spill some sort of sordid tale that never even happened, you’re wrong!”

“All right, all right! Sorry! Guess I’ll just have to make something up then”, the dwarf’s lips tugged into a triumphant grin at the obviously-annoyed grumble that emanated from the Commander.

“Wait”, Solas suddenly interjected. At first Varric thought that he was talking to him, until he followed the elf’s gaze towards a faintly-glowing tear in the Veil hovering in the middle of a ruined courtyard just up ahead.

As the rest of their party hesitated, all eyes drawn towards the quietly-humming phenomenon, Solas strode forward and began circling it, a thoughtful scowl upon his sharp features. Varric held back, drawing the heavy crossbow from his back as he eyed the rift warily. Cullen directed the half-dozen soldiers who had accompanied them to spread out across the courtyard, weapons drawn.

After a moment, Solas turned to address the Commander, “It is dormant for now. But, in order to test my theory, we will need the prisoner.”

“And we have no idea how long it may be until she eventually wakes up”, Cullen replied wearily.

Solas paused to glance thoughtfully at the sky for a moment, “Actually, if I am correct, she should be waking up quite soon. We need to send a message to the Seeker. It is imperative that she bring her here as soon as possible. She may be the key to stopping this.”

“I’ll go to the forward camp and send a raven”, Cullen replied, turning to the rest of his men, “The rest of you stay here and keep watch over this thing.”

“You not going to take backup?” Varric enquired and Cullen almost thought he heard concern in the dwarf’s gravelly voice.

“I’ll be fine. It’s just over the ridge.” He couldn’t help but toss the dwarf a faint smirk as he crossed the courtyard and began heading down towards the frozen lake below, “Besides, it will be nice to have some peace and quiet for once.”

“I think I’m going to change your nickname to ‘Surly’ from now on”, Varric grumbled at the Commander’s retreating back.

\------------------------------

Finally alone with nothing but the sound of his own boots crunching through the snow, Cullen’s thoughts turned to Varric’s questions. His answers hadn’t been lies…there honestly had not been any sort of…serious…involvement between himself and Hyperia Amell. Just what he had written off later as a foolish, ill-conceived infatuation with the one sort of person that a Templar should never get involved with: a mage.

_Watching her immobile form as she undergoes the Harrowing, fervently praying to the Maker that he will not be forced to end her life…_

_The relief to see her awake and whole…but fear when she asks to see him alone…_

_The look in her eyes in that brief moment before she presses her lips to his…_

_His arms around her, wishing he could hold her like this forever….but it is forbidden…_

_His heart lurching as she glances at him one last time before departing to become a Grey Warden…_

He had tried to force himself to forget her after that. But then, Uldred and his abominations had swept through the tower, slaughtering or twisting his fellow Templars with the whispers of demons.

_Her face, swimming before him…her voice, enticing him…begging him to do things to her body that he even wouldn’t dream of…_

_Then the pain when he refused…the endless pain…_

_Her face again…but real…the pity in her eyes…._

_His words, his anger, spat at her….he hates her…he loves her….he can’t face her…._

_The pain she wears like a shroud as she once more walks through those doors…never to be seen again…_

Until several months later when First Enchanter Irving had insisted on having him as his escort to Denerim en route to Cullen's new assignment in Kirkwall...to attend a wedding...her wedding to her fellow Warden, Alistair. He had practically sprinted to the ship heading to the Free Marches....more eager than ever to leave Ferelden, his former life...and her....far behind him.

When “the woman who fell out of the Fade” had turned out to be her, all of the mixed emotions had come back tenfold. So he had silently vowed to do what he could to aid her, but facing her directly was not something he was ready for yet.

 _So I run…again…it seems to be what I’m good at._ He silently berated himself, _I ran from the Circle to Kirkwall, then ran from Kirkwall to the Inquisition….and ran from her…all because of the damn memories. Maker, after all these years, why can’t they leave me be?_

Cullen shook himself from his morose thoughts as he entered into the haphazard jumble of people and supplies that had been coined the “forward camp”, just in time to hear an all-too-familiar voice drone blandly, “Ah, Commander, might I have a word?”

With a groan, he turned to the speaker, the disgust he felt for the man addressing him plain as day, “What is it now, Chancellor Roderick?”


	5. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyperia discovers what the mark on her hand is truly capable of...both for good and ill...
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

_Demons…why did it have to be demons?_ Hyperia thought irritably as the shambling abomination crumpled into a heap of sticky black ichor. Admittedly, she had more experience slaying darkspawn, but she had encountered her share of demons as well…from the first encounter during her Harrowing, through the entire Blight and after.

Cassandra had found her standing over the rapidly-dissolving body, staring at it in bland disgust, a cast-off staff wielded with practiced precision. The Nevarran Seeker felt a brief moment of unease at how casually Hyperia had dispatched the creature. This was the woman who had slain the Archdemon and stopped the Fifth Blight…or at least seemed to be in every way. If she was somehow an imposter of some sort, things could get very bad for the Inquisition very fast.

Shaking the morose thoughts from her mind, Cassandra sheathed her blade and gestured down the path they had started down, “We need to keep moving. It’s only going to get worse the longer we stand here.”

Hyperia nodded and followed her in silence, taking the time to study the glowing mark upon her hand as they continued on. It seemed rather unremarkable really, aside from the faint emerald glow. She could not discern any sort of arcane symbol or glyph to try and determine what its origin might be or even it’s purpose. And something felt...off. She couldn’t pin down what it was, but ever since she had awoken, she felt a sort of…emptiness…as though the mark had taken something from her, but she didn’t know what it was.

After a few minutes of trudging through the snow, a small clutch of demons could be seen blocking their path ahead. Cassandra gestured to twin glowing forms floating at the top of a ridge. “Those can attack from a distance. Be wary.”

Hyperia merely released a derisive snort, “So can I.” Tracing her fingers in the air in a brief pattern, she gestured towards the group of floating creatures. Her expression fell to shock when only a brief sputter of electricity spat feebly from her fingertips. _Maker…this thing has weakened my magic somehow!_

Scowling, Cassandra merely rushed towards the demons as Hyperia gave the glowing mark upon her hand a look of utter contempt then drew her staff to fling bolts of fire at the luminous creatures.

As they left the corpses behind them to dissolve back into the strange bubbling holes they emerged from, the mark flared with emerald light. Just over the hill, a strange crack echoed through the chill air. Hyperia drew in a pained hiss between her teeth, eyes narrowing as she clenched her fist.

Cassandra’s eyes went wide and darted up the path, “We’re here. Hurry, we have to help them!” Without waiting for an answer, she began running up the hill.

“Who?” Hyperia called futilely to her already-retreating back before biting back the pain and rushing to join her.

As she crested the hill, a battle raged within the confines of a ruined courtyard. The scene was cast in an eerie emerald glow from the pulsing tear in the very air above them, as demons screeched and swords rang out through the chill air. Hyperia paused to take in the scene, quickly trying to discern how best to aid Cassandra and her allies. There were about half a dozen foot soldiers engaging the demons in a fierce melee, while a bald elf mage perched lightly upon a heap of rubble, flinging ice bolts within their midst. At his side was a dwarf wielding a huge, complex-looking crossbow that spat bolts with amazing precision into the attacking demon’s vulnerable flesh.

Hyperia sidled around to the opposite side of the courtyard, mentally re-evaluating her tactics to account for the weakened state of her magic before flinging a spell at one of the creatures. Its body froze in place then shattered as the dwarf’s crossbow bolts found their mark.

It seemed over almost before it had begun and, in the blink of an eye, the elf strode to her side and yelled, “Quickly! Before more come through!” as he grasped her wrist and forcibly thrust her hand towards the still-pulsing rift hovering just above their heads.

Hyperia bit back a scream at the sudden sensation of something being forcibly pulled through her skin as a tendril of emerald light emerged from her palm and shot into the heart of the rift. With a small explosion of energy, the rift faded into nothingness and the elf released her hand.

Her eyes darted between the mark, which had subsided once more into a faint, pulsing glow, and the elf, who was wearing an expression bordering on smugness, “What….what did you do?”

The smugness seemed to fade as he offered her a faint smile, “I did nothing. The credit is yours.”

Her eyes fell to the still-pulsing mark upon her hand, ”You mean this?”

“Indeed. Whatever magic was used to open the breach in the sky, also put that mark upon your hand. I theorized that the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the breach’s wake.” Once again, that hint of smugness tinged his words, his gaze canting ever-so-briefly to Cassandra, “And it seems I was correct.”

The Seeker merely scowled thoughtfully, “Meaning…that it might also be able to close the breach itself.”

“Possibly…”, he replied, fixing Hyperia with an appraising look, the hint of a smile upon his lips, “It seems you are the key to our salvation.”

“Again”, she replied sardonically. _Maker…why? Can I not just retire in peace?_

Even as she ruminated over her fate, the dwarf spoke up, “Good to know. Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” As all eyes turned towards him, he gave a slight bow, “Varric Tethras. Rogue, storyteller, and occasional unwelcome tag-along.” The last was said with a sly wink to Cassandra who merely huffed in obvious loathing.

For some reason, his name seemed vaguely familiar to her, but she couldn’t quite place it. So, she settled for offering him a friendly smile, “Glad to meet you, I suppose.”

Behind her, the elf chuckled quietly, “You might reconsider that stance in time.”

Hyperia’s eyes darted between the two curiously even as Varric tossed Solas a mock-hurt look, “Oh come now, I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to become good friends on our way through the valley.”

“Absolutely not!” Cassandra broke in, gesturing sharply, “Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…”

Even Hyperia could hear the lie behind those words as the dwarf stood his ground, the smile never leaving his face, “Have you even been in the valley lately, Seeker? The soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You’re going to need all the help you can get.”

Cassandra merely rolled her eyes and turned away, shaking her head with disgust. Before the argument could progress any farther, the elven apostate stepped forward to offer Hyperia a brief greeting, “My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live.”

“He means ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept’.” Varric interjected as Cassandra began pacing the courtyard restlessly.

“Oh? How did you manage that?” _Perhaps I can figure out how to get rid of this thing_.

“A combination of healing magic and wards. Unfortunately, it is now past the point where those will do any good.” Hyperia felt her hopes dashed as he continued, “The magic involved is unlike any I have ever seen.”

Turning, he addressed the still-pacing Seeker, “Cassandra, even though she is a mage and, from her reputation, a quite powerful one, I know of no mage who has this sort of power. For what it is worth, I do not believe that she was directly responsible for what happened here.”

“I’m not much of a ‘powerful one’ at the moment”, Hyperia interrupted with disgruntlement, her golden eyes narrowed with disdain at the pulsing mark on her hand. “This…thing…seems to be suppressing my magic.”

Solas frowned and took her hand, concentrating for a brief moment before releasing it, “Yes, it seems to be. My best guess would be that the energy from the breach is causing it. Hopefully, if…when…we are able to close it, your magic should return. That is only a theory, however.”

“Well, let’s get this over with then. I am anxious to be rid of this thing.” _And the responsibility of being expected to save Thedas…again._ She added silently as she began making her way down the path towards the Temple of Sacred Ashes….and the breach that had ripped open the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blahblah blah....not my favorite chapter. More gameplay with slight adaptations. Felt the need to explain why a mage who was once capable of bringing down the Archdemon was suddenly barely able to cast the most minor spells. So...head-canon to the rescue (and that's not all the mark is suppressing. But we'll find out more about that in a bit)!  
> Will be switching POVs for the next chapter and getting to more exciting stuff.


	6. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As our intrepid group draws closer to closing the Breach, Hyperia is reunited with two people from her past....with very mixed reactions.

“As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Vax Royeaux to face execution!”

Three pairs of eyes stared at the Chancellor with mixed degrees of incredulity, but it was Hyperia who spoke up first.

“You’re kidding right? You know who I am…”

However, Roderick went on unfazed, “I know who you _were_. Right now you are our only suspect for all of this…” he gestured to the makeshift camp set up on a ruined bridge, the breach now looming nearly directly overhead.

“Maker’s balls, it’s the Blight all over again. Fools who care more about their own political standing than the fact that the world is falling apart right before their eyes!” Hyperia exclaimed with exasperation.

“I care about justice for the Divine’s death! I would think that, at the very least, her Left and Right Hands would as well!” The Chancellor’s eyes darted between Cassandra and Leliana.

Cassandra fixed him with a baleful glare, her tone measured, tight….as though holding back a swell of emotions, “Do not think to use her death as leverage, Roderick. We served her then and we do so now by doing what is necessary to end this chaos before it’s too late.”

Some of the anger fled from the Grand Chancellor’s voice, replaced by despair, “And what can you do? Our position here is hopeless. Even with all of your soldiers, you won’t survive long enough to reach the Temple. It’s nearly overrun.”

“We have to try…” Cassandra began before Leliana interrupted.

“The soldiers could charge as a distraction while we take the mountain pass”, the red-haired spymaster gestured to a high mountain peak, barely visible in the distance.

Hyperia followed her gaze, lips pursed thoughtfully for a long moment. Apparently noting her introspection, Cassandra inquired quietly, “What do you think we should do?”

Snapped from her thoughts, Hyperia fixed them with a steady gaze, “Forget sneaking about. I want to get this over with. We charge with the soldiers.”

A playful smile tugged at Leliana’s lips, “Why am I not surprised? You always were for blazing your way through the most direct route.”

“Literally, most of the time”, Hyperia grinned impishly in return, “It’s good to see you again, Lel.”

“And you as well. I just wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Feels like old times again. Trying to save the world again all odds.”

“At least this time, you have an army at your back…and resources”, Leliana’s smile turned wry for a moment, “As rag-tag as it may be at the moment. At least it’s something more than our little mismatched group, wandering through the countryside.”

Hyperia shrugged, “I’ll take what I can get, I suppose.”

“If you two are quite finished…” Roderick’s voice echoed irritably from beside them.

“I’ll see you at the Temple. Be careful”, the smile faded from Leliana’s lips and the “spymaster” visage replaced it as Hyperia nodded and made her way towards the opposite end of the bridge.

Cassandra held back for a moment, watching the trio leave, before murmuring to Leliana, “So, it really is her?”

“Well, it’s not a demon, I know that much.” At Cassandra’s curious frown, Leliana smirked impishly, “I gave her a cup of holy water when she first woke up.”

“And you didn’t tell me?! We hiked all this way and I never knew if she was going to turn on me.”

Leliana chuckled, “Oh come now, Cassandra, I thought that you would know by now to trust me. I wouldn’t have let her out of the prison, if there was a chance she was a demon.”

Cassandra huffed disgustedly before fixing her with a curious glance, “Does Cullen know?”

“I told him when we met up here. He’s gone on to try and secure the route to the Temple.”

“Well, this should be interesting….” Cassandra grumbled over her shoulder as she jogged to catch up with the rest.

\-----------------------------------------

“Form up! Be ready!” Cullen Rutherford gathered his men in a semi-circle around the pulsing emerald tear in the air before them.

He was tired…they were all tired. The entire day had been a never-ending surge of demons being spat out from the breach and the smaller rifts that were spawning around the Temple. It was almost as though it could sense that the Inquisition was moving against it.

Added to that, his head had not stopped pounding all day. His encounter with the Grand Chancellor Roderick earlier had not helped either. The man’s very existence seemed to rely on being as annoying as possible. Then there was the lack of sleep…the nightmares had grown worse since the explosion. And now they all seemed to center around…her.

To make matters even more complicated, Leliana had cornered him at the forward camp as he was leaving.

 

> _“Stop running, Cullen.”_
> 
> _“I’m not running. If Cassandra is going to try to get her to close the breach, we need to clear a path to the Temple.”_
> 
> _“You know what I mean. Did you forget that I was there….at the Circle tower?”_
> 
> _“That was over ten years ago!”_
> 
> _“And yet, you’re still afraid to face her.”_
> 
> _“I’m not afraid.”_
> 
> _“Then what?”_
> 
> Cullen scowled as the spymaster pinned him with pale blue eyes that seemed to pierce straight through the layers he had built up over the years since then.
> 
> _“It doesn’t matter”_ , was all that he managed to grumble out, unable to meet her gaze, before he had turned and strode from the camp.

The all-too-familiar snap of an opening rift shook him from his thoughts, every nerve on edge as tendrils of energy snaked out to coalesce into the forms of demons crawling from bubbling black puddles. He barely had time to catch a glance of a quartet of people approaching at a quick jog out of the corner of his eye before the demons surged forward with horrifying screeches.

\-----------------------------------------------

By now, Hyperia could almost anticipate by now when her mark was going to flare. There was this sharp tingling, like when the feeling suddenly returned to a numb appendage. And so, just as they crested a rise overlooking a vast ruined courtyard, she knew there had to be a rift nearby, for there was that tingling and….

“Andraste’s knickerweasles!”, she exclaimed between gritted teeth as the mark sent out a stabbing pain through her arm.

Varric gaped at her in brief surprise, “I haven’t heard that since Kirkwall. Was Blondie’s favorite curse.” A hint of melancholy tinged the last.

Grateful to have her mind distracted from the pain, if even for a brief moment, she tossed the dwarf a wry smile, “If you mean Anders, then yes…I picked it up from him.”

For a moment, Varric appeared to almost say something, then quickly snapped his mouth shut to join Cassandra and Solas as they rushed forward to aid the soldiers who were now fighting off the demons pouring from the rift.

Shaking off the pain, Hyperia began hurling spells at the demons, fighting her way towards the rift so that she could attempt to close it. As she did, she noticed one soldier who stood out from the rest. Dressed in armor obviously far better than the soldiers surrounding him and wielding a Templar shield, his fighting style seemed terribly familiar.

_Is that…Alistair?_ She wondered for a moment. His back was to her and, across the distance through the dust and fog, it was hard to discern any other details. _He wasn’t supposed to be at the Conclave…but neither was I. And I did tell him I was planning to be there. But…Leliana would have mentioned it. Or maybe not…all things considered._

There was little time to ruminate over that, for a brief lull fell over the battle and she instinctively thrust her hand towards the rift as she had done twice before. Again, there was the unnerving sensation of something being pulled from her very flesh as energy poured from her palm to seal the rift with a sound of shattering glass.

From over her shoulder, the elf’s melodic accent filtered, “You are becoming quite proficient at this.”

Before she could reply, Varric stepped forward, eyes drawn to the swirling breach ahead of them, “Let’s just hope it works on the big one.”

\-----------------------------------

As the last demon fell to his blade, Cullen felt the familiar tingle of magic in the air. A flare of emerald lit up the night and he turned to see her….arm outstretched towards the rift, a pulsing beam of light linking her hand to the tear in the sky.

He felt caught between fear and awe and…something else. This was not the first time he had seen her since she fell from the breach, but it seemed…different to see her conscious, powerful, and still as confident as she ever had been all those years before.

She did not notice him at first, her attention first on the rift itself, then on her companions. He knew he couldn’t just keep standing there, staring at her, so he approached their group to address the Seeker.

“Lady Cassandra. Thank the Maker you all arrived. We were about to lose hope that the rifts could be closed.”

\---------------------------------------

Even as Varric’s last word left his lips, another voice…a familiar one…called out across the distance. Hyperia had the sudden sensation of something tightly gripping her chest as the (former) Templar she had originally thought was Alistair stepped forward.

_Cullen…!?_

She could barely hear Cassandra’s response as a million different thoughts and emotions suddenly swept through her. She had to admit, the past ten years had only made him more handsome. The awkward young Templar she had known in the Circle was gone, replaced by someone who had obviously been through several hells and back. But somehow, it had aged him well.

Had it been five…10 years ago, she would have run to him without hesitation. But, in her travels, she had heard the rumors…the whispers…of Kirkwall and the atrocities perpetrated against the Circle mages there. And she recalled Irving mentioning at her wedding that Cullen was being sent there as their new Knight-Captain.

_After what happened at the Ferelden Circle, he made it quite plain how he felt about mages. He hated them…hated me. What happened in Kirkwall started all of this...and he was involved. Why in Andraste’s name would he even be here? I thought they were supposed to be stopping all of this. If nothing else, Leliana was there…she knew how much he hated us…_

Her thoughts trailed off as she realized that all eyes were upon her. Well, except Cullen’s. He could not seem to meet her gaze. _I guess I shouldn’t be surprised…here I am a dreaded mage, wielding the power that can decide all of their fates._

But there was no hatred in his pale brown eyes, only a hint of guilt, as he flicked them to her only briefly, his jaw set in obvious tension, as he addressed her with a tight terseness, “Lady Amell. I do hope that they are right about you and you can close this breach. We’ve lost a lot of good people getting you here.”

\-----------------------------

_Maker’s breath, that came out all wrong…like I’m blaming her for this_ , he mentally berated himself as her eyes narrowed in obvious irritation. Why was it that she made him feel like they were back at the Circle again, where she was the star apprentice full of confidence, and he was just the shy junior Templar who couldn’t speak two words to her without stammering?

“Well, you’re not the only one”, she shot back sardonically before turning back to Cassandra, “Can we get this over with?”

Cassandra shot him a look that was mingled surprise and curiosity. He merely shrugged helplessly, knowing that she had a million questions that he probably couldn’t even begin to answer, and focused on the task at hand. “The way to the Temple should be clear. Leliana will meet you there.”

“Then we’d best move quickly. Give us time, Commander”, Cassandra’s angular features schooled themselves back into terse neutrality, though Cullen could almost hear her unspoken thought of _“We will talk of this later”_.

As their group set off towards the Temple, he murmured to their retreating forms….but especially to one in particular, “Maker watch over you…for all of our sakes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go. The framework follows the gameplay, but I obviously took a lot of liberties with the conversations. I was going to write this from other POVs besides Hyperia's, but decided just to bounce between her and Cullen for this one. Her reunion with Cullen underwent a few changes in my mind over the course of writing this. I originally was going to have her still holding something of a flame for him...but decided that she would know about Kirkwall and his involvement. Add that to how he treated her back during "Broken Circle" and that flame sputtered out. But...I'm hoping it will make things a bit more interesting as he tries to regain her trust.


	7. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyperia wakes up to find that she's been dubbed a hero....again. But she knows better than most that heroes never have it easy.

_Wash the dishes, cook the food, tend to the tiny garden behind the Chantry._

_Do the laundry, take water to the soldiers, run errands._

Alara was no longer an elven slave, but still she kept busy. She had to…they all did. It was either that or stare at the swirling evil mass in the sky and wonder how long it would be until it swallowed them all. Or until rifts started opening in Haven itself and they were overrun by demons.

Sleep was a rare commodity and usually only partaken once one was literally falling over from exhaustion. And, even then, reluctantly. For few escaped the nightmares that came…of demons rending flesh, the whole of Thedas pulled into the Fade where mortals could not exist.

So, the Inquisition could boast some of the hardest-working people in Ferelden…but only because there was little else they could do except wait…and pray that they would live to see another day. So, when a deep rumble echoed over Haven, louder than any they had heard before, an uncharacteristic hush fell over the town as everyone froze in place, eyes lifting to the breach overhead.

A second later, a bolt of emerald magic shot upward through the very center of the breach, followed by a blinding flash of light and crack of thunder that sounded as though the heavens had been split asunder.

A few people cried out, some seemed frozen in place…torn between running for shelter and facing what was to come. Alara lifted her gaze back to the breach once her vision had cleared to see that it had…changed. While the vortex of swirling clouds and verdant lightning remained, it seemed more….subdued. No longer did fingers of angry pulsing energy snake down into the Temple. The constant rain of black meteors that pummeled the earth to explode into demons had ceased.

Alara allowed herself something she had not felt since the Temple had exploded: hope. A hope that seemed to be reflected in many of the villagers around her as the whispers began circulating.

“Did they do it?”

“I heard it was the Hero of Ferelden.”

“Praise Andraste!”

“The Maker sent her, He had to have.”

“I need a drink…”

\--------------------------

About an hour later, Alara was tidying up the small cottage that had been put aside for the potential leader of the Inquisition. Ladies Cassandra and Leliana, and Lord Cullen had all been hoping to find the Hero of Ferelden or the Champion of Kirkwall for the task. It was ironic that the Hero had almost literally fallen onto their doorstep…just not in the manner anyone had been expecting.

The elven girl fervently prayed to Andraste and the Maker that she had survived, along with everyone else. So, when the door suddenly banged open to admit a pair of soldiers, bearing the unconscious woman’s body on a makeshift litter, she quickly darted out of the way, eyes wide.

“Make way, make way!” The healer, Adan pushed his way past her to examine the prone figure the soldiers had laid carefully upon the bed.

Alara backed herself into a corner as Cassandra, Leliana and Cullen all crowded into the room, obviously awaiting the healer’s prognosis with trepidation.

“Maker’s breath, you people are like vultures! Give her some room, for Andraste’s sake!” Adan grumbled irritably. “She’ll be fine. She’s just exhausted and needs rest. Now shoo!” He flapped his hands at them like a pack of stray puppies.

Alara began to follow at their heels before Adan’s voice stopped her in her tracks, “Not you, girl! Go out and fetch me some elfroot. Ten bundles should be enough. Bring one here and leave the rest in my cottage. Understand?”

“Yessir…right away!” The elven girl nodded before bolting out the door.

\---------------------

_Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now!_

_Everyone in the Conclave is dead!_

_Breach into the realm of demons…_

_It is killing you…_

_It seems you hold the key to our salvation…_

_Abandon this now before more lives are lost!_

_Corpses still burning, screaming silent agony into the smoky air…_

_Hazy memories drug forth before everyone’s gaze…_

_“What’s going on here?” My voice…Most Holy crying for help…_

_Demons attacking….screams of the dying…_

_Must close it…_

_It hurts…Maker it hurts so much….please make it stop…_

_I don’t know how much longer I can…._

She wakes up with a start, another gasp echoing her own from across the room, followed by the sound of something dropping onto the floor. Eyes slowly focus on her surroundings. An elven girl stares wide-eyed at her, visibly trembling.

“I—I’m so sorry. I did not know you were awake, I swear!”

“Don’t worry about it. I only—“ Even as the words left Hyperia’s lips, the girl fell to her knees prostrating herself upon the floor. _What in Andraste’s name?! Why is she--?_

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.” Her forehead nearly touched the wooden floor as she continued on, seemingly anticipating Hyperia’s unspoken question, “You are back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, as did the mark on your hand.”

Hyperia felt a mixture of dread and elation at the girl’s words. Reluctantly, she allowed her gaze to fall to her hand where, as the girl had said, the mark was still there but only a faint pulsing glow remained instead of the angry sparking of before.

“It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days!” The girl added excitedly.

_Three days? Was I out for that long?_ “Then….it’s over?” Hyperia allowed herself a faint sliver of hope, though she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen now if it was.

“The Breach is still in the sky, but that’s what they say”, the elven girl slowly rose to her feet, a sudden sense of urgency entering her voice, “Lady Cassandra will want to know you’ve awakened. She said ‘at once’!”

“Where is she?”

“In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor and the others.” The girl seemed almost in a panic as she turned to the door, “’At once’, she said!” And, with that, she turned and ran from the small cottage as though the fires of Andraste’s pyre were licking at her heels.

Strange girl, Hyperia couldn’t help but think. She had some limited experience with elven servants, but none who were so submissive. _Why was she so afraid? She was acting as though I was Andraste Herself come down to Thedas._

She took a moment to regain her bearings. The small cottage was warm and cozy, with a fire burning in the fireplace, bookshelves, a small table and chairs, and the bed she had awoken upon. Someone had taken the liberty of getting her out of her Warden armor before putting her in bed. She was clad only in an undershirt and leggings for modesty, while her armor was laid out neatly upon the table, having been obviously cleaned and repaired.

Taking a moment to splash some water upon her face from a nearby basin, she then donned her armor and started towards the door. However, she paused when she heard the rumble of many voices just outside. Is the whole town out there? She couldn’t help but wonder as she tentatively opened the door.

Indeed, it seemed that the entire population of Haven was gathered outside the small cottage and lining the streets all the way to the Chantry.

_Maker’s breath…it’s like a smaller version of Denerim after the Blight._ This time, there was no carriage to carry her through the streets, no Alistair at her side, no raucous cheers following in her wake…only quiet whispers as she made her way towards the Chantry.

“That’s the Herald of Andraste…”

“They say the Maker Himself sent her from the Fade.”

“Wasn't she the Hero of Ferelden?”

“I thought she was going to close the Breach entirely.”

“Hush…leave her in peace…”

She was grateful for once to slip into the quiet confines of the Chantry. The Sisters there only nodded in silent respect and gave her a wide berth. Hyperia suddenly realized that this was the same building, albeit refurbished over the years, which she had set foot in over ten years ago, seeking Brother Genetivi and the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Behind that wall, had been the secret room where the historian had been held captive. And on this spot, they had slain Father Eirik.

Raised voices filtering through a closed door before her interrupted her musings.

“….completely mad! She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by…whoever becomes Divine!”

Hyperia recognized the voice of Chancellor Roderick and couldn’t help but roll her eyes. _Idiot is still pushing that line? Maker, but he’s persistent!_

Cassandra interrupted, obviously annoyed, “I do not believe she is guilty!”

“She failed…the Breach is still in the sky. For all we know, she planned it that way!”

“Oh Andraste’s tits”, Hyperia grumbled as she swung open the door, pinning Roderick with an irritated glare.

Unfazed, he gestured to the two Templars standing guard just inside the room, “Chain her! I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial!”

“Belay that….and leave us!” Cassandra barked harshly. The Templars merely saluted, spun on their heels and marched from the room.

Hyperia’s gaze slid over the room. It seemed that everyone was gathered within: Cassandra, Leliana, Cullen, and a woman she had not seen before who appeared to be some sort of noble…Antivan, maybe…as well as Roderick, who seemed completely indifferent to the fact that he was vastly outnumbered.

“You walk a thin line, Seeker”, he growled menacingly as he also turned and strode out the door, slamming it behind him.

“Can someone tell me why we are even listening to that…pompous windbag?!” Hyperia interrupted.

“He’s toothless…just another random cleric who wasn’t important enough to be at the Conclave”, Cullen muttered from the corner of the room. “No point in turning him into a martyr, though.”

Leliana detached herself from the shadowed corner in which she had been idly observing the interaction, “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave…but someone Most Holy did not expect…someone she trusted.” Her gaze pointedly fixed upon the door through which the Chancellor had just departed with the stare of a predator, “Someone who may yet still have allies looking to sabotage us.”

It took but a moment for the Hyperia to realize her implication, “So…now he’s a suspect?” Her lips twitched into a smile at the irony of that.

“Yes…as well as many others.”

“But I’m not anymore?”

“I heard the voices in the Temple”, Cassandra replied, her gaze growing distant for a moment in memory, “The Divine turned to you for help.”

Hyperia scowled, frustration writ upon her face, “I wish I could remember what happened. It’s all…like a dream you wake up from but can’t quite remember. Why didn’t I die like everyone else?”

“Providence”, Cassandra replied sharply, “The Maker sent you to us in our hour of need.”

Hyperia had never been particularly religious. The Chantry’s view of mages had done much to sour her on the whole institute. So this…this, was ridiculous, “You’re kidding me right? I’m not some holy savior sent from beyond!”

Cullen smirked, “I’m sure the Chantry would agree.”

Cassandra shot him a faintly-irritated glance, “Perhaps, but I…we…cannot pretend that you were not exactly what we needed when we needed it.”

Leliana offered her a small, comforting smile, “I know that this is probably the last thing you want right now. But that mark on your hand is our only hope of closing the Breach.”

“So…what do we do now?”

Cassandra laid her hand upon a large leather-bound book upon the table between them. “This is a Holy Writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to restore the Inquisition of old and stand against the chaos.”

Leliana offered quietly, “We need you. We believe that if we pour more power into your mark, it could actually close the Breach for good this time. And you are best suited out of all of us to speak to the rebel mages….”

“I still disagree”, Cullen interjected, “The Templars could serve just as well. They could suppress…”

“We already discussed this! We need _more_ power poured into the mark, so that…”, Cassandra began.

Cullen cut her off with a sharp gesture, “…might kill us all! I was a Templar, I know what they can do!”

_"Was" a Templar?_ Hyperia couldn't help but briefly wonder on that before shaking herself back to the present, “Enough!”, she yelled, causing everyone to jump, all eyes snapping to her. “Maker’s breath, have you ever thought to maybe ask what _I_ want…since it is this thing on _my_ hand that you really need?!”

“Apologies”, a melodic accent filtered through the silence and Hyperia turned to see the dark-skinned woman, dressed in rich satin and velvet step forward. “Of course, we should take your wishes into account, Lady Amell.” At Hyperia’s curious glance, she continued, “Josephine Montilyet at your service. I serve as the Inquisition’s ambassador.”

“…And voice of reason when some of us forget it”, Cassandra finished with a respectful nod towards the Antivan lady.

“Indeed”, Josephine replied, “Now, at the moment this argument is rather a moot point because, even with your reputation, neither the Templars nor the rebel mages will speak to us. And, since the Chantry has denounced us, we are left in a position of having to earn their respect before we can even get started.”

“Well, that sounds familiar”, Hyperia replied sarcastically, cutting a glance to Leliana. “I guess I should have thought to carry a copy of the Warden treaties with me. Not that they would do any good since, technically, I renounced the Wardens.”

Noting the puzzled looks around the room, she realized what they were staring at, “Oh…yes, I know…I’m wearing the armor. Do you honestly think they would have let an unaffiliated mage into the Conclave? It comes in handy on occasion.”

“Nevertheless, the Chantry has declared the Inquisition heretical and you, as the Herald of Andraste, blasphemy. So, until we get the Chantry to at least consider our side, no one will speak to us.”

“Wait….’Herald of Andraste’?! Where did that come from?” Hyperia gaped at her incredulously.

“Quite the title, isn’t it?” Cullen chuckled, “Almost more impressive than ‘The Hero of Ferelden’.”

Hyperia glared at him as Cassandra shrugged, “People know that you were the one who sealed the Breach. They also heard how there was a woman standing behind you in the rift where you were found…they believe that was Andraste.”

Leliana quickly interjected, seeing Hyperia’s skeptical look, “People are desperate for a sign of hope. For some, you’re that sign.”

“But, to others, a sign of everything that’s gone wrong”, Jospehine added, almost apologetically.

Hyperia released a weary sigh of frustration, “So…that puts us back to ‘what now?’.”

“We received a missive from a Mother Giselle out in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe. She wishes to speak with you.” Leliana spoke up, “She knows the politics and people of the Chantry well, and her assistance could be invaluable.”

“I’m assuming it’s not a trap.”

“No….that’s very doubtful. I know Mother Giselle enough to know that she’s not the type and it has been verified that the letter was from her.”

“Even so”, Cassandra added, “You will not want to go alone. The Hinterlands are a bit of a…mess at the moment with the mage-Templar fighting going on. I will accompany you.”

“Alright. I’ll see if Varric and Solas want to tag along as well. They seemed pretty handy in a fight.”

The look of disgust that crossed Cassandra’s face for a brief moment was almost amusing, “Very well.”

“I’ll meet you at the front gate in an hour.” Without another word, Hyperia slipped through the doorway and out into the Chantry, four sets of eyes following her in silence.

"So...when are you going to tell _her_ to stop running?", Cullen tossed sardonically to Leliana before turning without another word to slip out the back door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ran way longer than I'd intended. My original intent was for it to be mostly alternate POV, but it turns out I'd written a good chunk of this already for Ysara. I didn't want to toss it completely, so it ended up being Hyperia-POV gameplay of two 1/2 scenes all mashed into one (because I thought that it would flow better to make the pre- and post-title screen scenes one big scene instead of two...and I threw in some of Cullen's conversation with Roderick from the later scene outside the Chantry).  
> Obviously, I changed quite a bit of the actual dialogue both to fit Hyperia's personality/status as former HoF and for brevity (it would have been twice as long if I'd kept it as it was in-game).  
> Next chapter will be total head-canon for the most part. I've been bouncing around an idea that's equal measure fluff and angst that I can't wait to write.


	8. Tainted Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyperia borrows Varric's copy of "Tales of the Champion" and discovers some of what really happened after she left the Wardens...and how it set the events of Kirkwall into motion.

_The Hinterlands_

Thunder rumbled overhead as the four began making camp. It had been a long day of fighting through pockets of rebel mages and Templars who did not seem to care who they attacked. The first few times, Cassandra tried to reason with them, but neither side cared about anything anymore except using their newfound freedom from the Chantry to fling their power against anyone that crossed their paths.

They had managed to clear out the ruin of an old fort. Hyperia recalled that it had once been called “Fort Conner”, after Arl Eamon’s father…and later, son. She couldn’t help but wonder how the younger Conner was doing. He would be a grown man by now, old enough to have gone through his Harrowing. She had lost contact with the Circle Tower after the mage rebellion started….not that she really wished anything to do with the place anymore. She had learned early on that the façade of leniency that they projected was just a thin veneer of deception to hide First Enchanter Irving’s manipulations.

After the fire was blazing and everyone had begun to settle in, Varric approached Hyperia cautiously and drew a book from his pack.

“Hey, Lady Amell, could you do me a favor?”

An amused snort echoed from across the small chamber, “Seriously Varric…?”

“Oh hush, Seeker, this isn’t a sales pitch.” Turning his attention back to Hyperia, he shrugged, appearing rather uncharacteristically embarrassed, “I was just wondering if you could maybe…sign this for me.”

“I….I’m flattered”, Hyperia replied, taking the book, but appearing a bit confused, “But, why me? This is ‘The Tale of the Champion’. Shouldn’t Hawke be the one signing it?”

“Oh, she already has! I just wanted yours too. I mean, being the ‘Hero of Ferelden’ and all. You’re not actually in the book, but you do get a few mentions.”

Hyperia was now eyeing the book with increased interest, “Oh? In that case, I’ll sign it…as long as I get to read it first!”

“You want to…” Varric gaped in a rare moment of shock, “Yes, of course! I’d be honored! Just…I hope the notes in the margins aren’t too distracting. This is my personal copy.”

“Wait! You had an annotated copy?!” Cassandra’s voice echoed across the chamber as she strode towards the pair, her features set in obvious annoyance.

“Yes, Seeker. You don’t think I’d let you get your hands on my one and only copy with all of my notes and signatures, do you? I’d probably never see it again!” His voice dropped to mumble under his breath, “Rather like the copy I ‘loaned’ you for my interrogation _that you stuck a dagger through_.”

Cassandra merely glowered at him for a moment before grunting in disgust and striding back to where their bedrolls had been arranged.

“Thanks Varric. I’ll take first watch.”

“I’ve set up wards around the area”, Solas approached them from the main entryway, surprisingly dry for the deluge that was pouring down outside.

“I could have done that, Solas”, Hyperia offered.

The elf merely shrugged, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “Yes, you could have. And if you would like to reinforce them, you are more than welcome to. I just thought to save you the trouble.”

“Thank you, Solas. I’m sure they’re fine”, she replied before dragging her bedroll to a vantage point near the entryway where she settled in against the wall and began to read.

\--------------------------------

A few hours later…long past the time she should have awoken one of the others and gone to sleep…Hyperia slowly closed the book, fighting back tears. She had not yet finished it, but she had read enough…and it broke her heart.

>  “So, I didn’t think you could leave the Wardens.” One rather famous cousin aside, Hawke knew almost nothing about the Grey Wardens, but this much she had managed to separate from all of the crazy rumors that ran amok about the secretive order.
> 
> “Well, the whole ‘hopelessly tainted by darkspawn’ and ‘plagued by nightmares about the Archedemon’ parts never go away”, the rather scruffy mage replied jokingly. There was this odd aura of playful lightheartedness, mixed with anger and melancholy about him. As though he couldn’t decide who he was…or what he wanted to be. “But if you hide well enough, you don’t have to wear the uniform or go to the parties.”
> 
> “Why did you leave?” Now there’s the 100-copper question.
> 
> For a moment, Anders hesitated, then turned away, a flash of that strange glow around him again. He was obviously hiding something. “After Amaranthine…things changed. Hyp….the Warden-Commander, she left…just disappeared. She said she had something to take care of. That she would be back. But she never came back. And…everything started to fall apart. They made me get rid of my cat…said it made me too soft. And…other things. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I left.”
> 
> _In the margin, Varric had written a lengthy note:_
> 
> _Turns out there was way more to it than that, Blondie told us later. Didn’t include it in here because…well, I owe it to Hawke to not make him out to be a complete monster. They’ve got enough problems as it is._
> 
> _When he and Justice did their merging thing, the Wardens accused him of being an abomination and tried to have him killed. He lost control…slaughtered the lot of them that tried. Then the group of Templars that came after. To hear him tell it, it was pretty bad. Justice totally took over. That’s when…and why he came to Kirkwall._

“Damnit…Anders, I’m so sorry”, she whispered, drawing her knees to her chest, her arms wrapping around them. Her eyes closed as she was flooded with memories.

 _Amaranthine. Another night…another nightmare. Not the archdemon, it was gone…for now. This time, something closer…more real._  

> _The Deep Roads…darkspawn claws, tearing at her robes, her skin. Hespith’s whispers echoing around her…_
> 
> _“Your screams, we hear in our dreams…”_
> 
> _Putrid smells all around, flesh forced against her lips, clawed hands pinning her to the stone…_
> 
> _“We hated as you are violated…”_
> 
> _The image of the bloated abomination that births the darkspawn blotting out all else. Her mind shattering at the sheer horror, her lips barely able to create the words…_
> 
> _“Kill…me…”_
> 
> _Alistair’s face in the distance, reflecting mixed horror and sadness, “It’s all for nothing, you know. You can’t even have children…”_
> 
> _She’s screaming…she can’t stop scre…._

_“Wake up!”_

_Instincts take over, a pulse of magical energy surging from her body as she snaps to wakefulness to hear a body hit the far wall, followed by a familiar “Oww!”_

_“Anders?” Blinking, her vision focuses on the blonde-haired mage now rubbing the back of his head, the faint aura of a shield slowly fading._

_“Yeah…sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in, but you were screaming and I…”_

_She took a deep breath, shaking her head as she waved him off, “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry for making such a racket…and hitting you with that spell.”_

_Anders chuckled, “It’s fine. You pack quite a punch. I felt that through the shields.” He tossed her a lopsided grin, “I suppose that’s payback for back in the Circle, eh?”_

_A flush rose up her neck at that particular memory, and she found herself at a loss for words, “Umm…I guess.”_

_“So….those Warden nightmares…I guess they get more intense as time goes by?”_

_She shook her head, “This wasn’t one of those. It’s just…”_

_And suddenly it all just spilled out of her: the nightmares, her fears, everything that had happened since she’d last seen him in the Circle. Ever since the…issues…with Alistair, she had felt so lonely, so isolated, with no one to talk to about everything._

_A small voice inside wondered why she was telling him, of all people. Before Amaranthine, he had just been that jerk who had stolen her virginity as a brief diversion on his way to escaping the Circle tower. When she ran into him here, she had exerted every ounce of willpower to keep from punching him. She had made him a Warden to save him from the Templars, but everything after that had been awkward silences, icy glares, and clumsy jokes._

_But now, he sat upon the edge of her bed, intently listening to her bare her soul…and, in turn, revealing something of where his travels had led once he had finally escaped the tower for good._

_They talked long into the night until they could both barely stay awake. As he had turned to leave, she had stopped him, “Anders, please stay.”_

_“Are you sure?”_

_“I…don’t want to be alone tonight.”_

_They had been too exhausted to do anything besides collapse in bed beside one another. But as morning came with a storm raging outside, they found more than just comfort in each other’s arms._

_It had been so different from their one, brief encounter in the Circle. That had been rushed, desperate, and furtive (and, in her case, drunk). But now they took their time, with slow, almost hesitant, explorations. She couldn’t help but think that this was how she had imagined her first time should have been…and perhaps, the same thought was on his mind._

_The next night, and for many nights after that, they shared beds. And, for a while, they both found a measure of peace. But, then the nightmares began to return and Hyperia knew what had to be done. She had honestly intended to return once she had met up with Avernus at Soldier’s Peak to see how his research was progressing._

_But, when she arrived, she found him no closer to a cure than he had been when they had first discovered him, barricaded in the tower for the past 200 years. Frustrated and despairing, she realized that she could not go back to the Wardens. She was no longer fit to be their Commander, for the only purpose she had now was to find a cure for the Calling so that her nightmare could never come true._

“And my leaving set all of this in motion”, she whispered to herself, feeling the weight of her actions bearing down upon her.

“Hey, you okay?” The familiar gravelly tone spoke quietly from beside her.

Wiping her eyes, she lifted her head to toss him a faint smile, “Not really, Varric.” Her gaze fell upon the book, still cradled in her arms, “All this…was my fault. If I hadn’t left, then Anders would still be with the Wardens and none of that would have happened.”

“You don’t know that.” Varric settled down beside her, “Justice made Blondie go off the rails, not you.”

“But he didn’t merge with Justice until after I left….probably _because_ I left.”

“He might’ve done it anyway. Hells, would you have stopped him if he’d asked?”

Hyperia fell silent for a long moment, “I…don’t know. To let him become an abomination…but Justice, he wasn’t a demon. I really can’t say for sure.” She released a long sigh, recalling how close they had grown before she left, “To be honest…I would have probably allowed it.”

“So, you see? It’s not your fault. He could’ve done all this with or without you. Or, if not him, some other mage may have eventually snapped and thrown some fiery wrath at the Chantry.” Varric clapped a hand comfortingly on her shoulder. “Go get some sleep. Bianca and I can keep watch.”

“Thanks Varric”, she rose with a weary smile, the book still clutched in her arms, “I wasn’t finished yet. Can I…?”

“Of course! Keep it as long as you want! As long as I eventually get it back, of course.” His voice turned sympathetic as he looked up at her with a faint glimmer of worry in his eyes, “And if there’s anything you need….want to ask me…about Blondie or…anyone else, you just ask.”

“I will. Thanks again.” Gathering up her bedroll, she drug it over to where Cassandra and Solas both slept and collapsed in an exhausted slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be angst and fluff, but ended up as more angst. It's just one of what will probably be many flashbacks to come, regarding what happened after the HoF's "disappearance" and how it affected Thedas and the people she knew.  
> I didn't go into detail about what happened between her and Anders back in the Circle because it's already explained in the first chapter of Hyperia's DA:O fic, "A Mage of the Grey". I'll probably have to start bouncing back and forth between writing the two fics, otherwise I'll end up having to explain things twice. I've already started writing a post-DA:O, pre-Awakenings chapter on just what went wrong between her and Alistair, but it's super-angsty, so I have to be in the right mindset to finish it.  
> Anyway....enjoy!


	9. Tribulations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Though stung with a hundred arrows,_  
>  _Though suffering from ailments both great and small,_  
>  _His Heart was strong, and he moved on._  
>  _\--The Chant of Light (verse unknown)_  
>   
>  Memories haunt Cullen...and reality isn't doing him any favors today, either.

_Mouth dry, tongue scraping like parchment across sand._

_Ten thousand hammers pounding in his skull, a cacophonous rhythm pulsing in time with the energy surrounding him._

_Limbs numb, yet somehow aching like the marrow’s being squeezed slowly from the bone._

_A presence nearby…he barely registers it…then the smell…_

_Blessed Andraste….he never could smell it before, but now it’s the sweetest nectar, teasing his senses with the promise of release…_

_A whisper in his ear…familiar…so familiar…_

_“Please Cullen. I don’t want to see you like this. You need to take it…”_

_Warm golden eyes framed by waves of auburn hair, lips curved into a gentle frown of concern, hand cradling a silver chalice filled with liquid of scintillating azure as she kneels beside him._

_“Please…”_

_Maybe it’s a hallucination, brought on by the withdrawal, but her eyes flicker red for the briefest of seconds and he uses what little strength he has left to slap the chalice from her hand._

_“NO!”_

_The chalice and its precious contents dissolve before they even hit the stone floor as a snarl escapes her lips…her face now twisting into something demonic, yet no less seductive, as she grasps his chin in a clawed grip of iron._

_“Fool….you will break…fighting is pointless…”_

_Pain….sharp as she slams his head onto the floor…then darkness…_

\----------------------------------

“You look like hell this morning”, Leliana greeted Cullen as he passed her on his way to the Chantry, concern in her lilting voice.

He winced, both at the pounding in his head…which seemed to have carried over from the nightmare…and his obvious lack of ability to conceal his growing deterioration. “Thanks. Nice to know our Lady Ambassador won’t have to worry about losing her job to you any time soon”, he replied sarcastically.

“Didn’t Adan give you something to help with that?” She kept her voice low, for the reason behind the Commander’s ailments was being treated as something of a state secret, known only to the Inquisition’s inner circle.

He released a heavy sigh and nodded, “Yes, but I’d have to take more as the symptoms get worse and I’m not trading one addiction for another.”

As they came upon the grouping of tents that the spymaster had made her makeshift headquarters, she pulled him aside, fixing him with an intent stare, “It’s gotten worse since…”, her eyes flicked briefly towards the small cottage where Hyperia was now sleeping off the journey from the Hinterlands, having returned in the dead of the night.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he could only nod, “The nightmares…about the Circle. They were bad before. But now…”

“I understand”, Leliana frowned, her pale blue-grey eyes downcast thoughtfully, “After I saw Marjolaine in Denerim, I had nightmares about what she did to me for months. And I have no doubt what I endured paled terribly in comparison to what you went through.”

Cullen was about to reply when he saw her head snap up suddenly, eyes narrowing to a point behind him. In an instant, she went from caring friend to Spymaster of the Inquisition, her voice terse, “What is he up to now?”

Turning, Cullen caught a glimpse of Chancellor Roderick’s retreating form just as two small knots of Templars and mages began facing off at the Chantry doors.

“Oh bloody Hell…”, he muttered under his breath as he strode over to what was rapidly escalating into a full-scale riot.

“Shut your mouth, Mage!”, one of the Templars lunged forward, about to draw steel just as Cullen interposed himself between him and the mage whose hands had just begun to spark with unleashed energy.

“Enough!”

The Templar quickly stepped back with a deferential nod towards the Commander, “Knight-Captain!”

“That is not my title!” _Maker’s breath, how many times must I say it before they realize I’m not one of them anymore?_ Though, he had to admit that at least it proved useful in getting their attention. Even the mages seemed both intimidated and wary of his presence. “And we are not Templars any longer. We are all members of the Inquisition now.”

“And what exactly does that mean, anyway?” Chancellor Roderick’s voice called out over the fading din, the two groups parting to make way for the Chantry official. “I’m curious, Commander, how your Inquisition and it’s ‘Herald’ plan to restore order as you’ve promised.”

_If it’s not one thing, it’s another_ , Cullen mused sullenly. It was obvious the Chancellor was behind the scene. Even now, he addressed the crowd, gesturing grandly, as though preaching a sermon. _The man has no power, but just has to try and stir things up just to reassure himself that he isn’t as completely irrelevant as we all know he is. He doesn’t even care what the answer is…_

“Of course you are”, Cullen replied blandly. _I’m not giving you the satisfaction, you impotent old fool._ Blatantly ignoring the Chancellor, he turned to address the now-silent crowd gathered. “Now back to your duties, all of you!”

He barely stifled a groan as his head began pounding once more, and had begun to retreat to the Chantry when he caught a flash of familiar red hair within the crowd. As they dispersed, she approached him, and he could not help but see a brief predatory glint in Roderick’s eyes. She had put aside the distinctive blue-and-silver garb of the Grey Wardens in favor of a split robe of deep red leather with a simple white shirt and black leather pants beneath. Somewhere along the way, she’d also acquired a new more ornate staff, it seemed. Everything about her now screamed “apostate”. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was deliberate.

“Well, speaking of the ‘Herald’ herself…or is it ‘The Hero of Ferelden’? You seem to be accumulating quite the collection of titles, mage”, Roderick sneered at her sardonically.

Hyperia merely rolled her eyes, “it’s not like I asked for any of them. I’m not some ‘Herald of Andraste’ any more than you are.”

Roderick eyed her for a moment before shrugging, “That laudable humility won’t stop your Inquisition from using the misconception whenever it suits them.”

Cullen had to admit the man had a point there. They had all agreed when the title first surfaced, that it could prove a useful tool while dealing with the Chantry and its faithful. But the last thing Roderick needed right now was justification for his prattling.

“The only thing the Inquisition claims is that we need to close the Breach or perish.”

The Chancellor merely snorted skeptically, “You say that now, Commander. We shall see if the sentiment remains true.”

Hyperia released a weary sigh and pointedly turned her back on Roderick to fix Cullen with an annoyed glare, “Why are we even allowing this…pompous windbag to be here?”

Before he could reply, Roderick smirked, “Clearly, your _Templar_ knows his place. Perhaps he needs to do his duty and remind you of yours…mage.”

She visibly bristled, fists clenching and Cullen could catch a glimpse of magic beginning to build around her hands. Before he could intercede, Leliana appeared like a shadow behind Roderick.

“I think that’s enough for now, Chancellor”, her voice was low, even…yet dangerous. Roderick almost visibly jumped at her sudden presence before stammering, “Yes…of course”, and striding quickly away, the Spymaster tossing them a sly smile and wink before slipping into the Chantry.

Before Cullen could breathe a sigh of relief, Hyperia pinned him with a narrow-eyed glare, “So….Templar…I’m rather surprised you haven’t ‘reminded me of my place’ yet. And letting all these mages run around free? I can’t imagine you being okay with this.”

He blinked at the sheer venom in her voice and for a moment was at a complete loss for words. _Is this her retaliation for what I said to her all those years ago in the Circle? Can’t say I don’t deserve it, but…Maker, does she really think I’m still that same person?_

Before he could get in a word, she continued, answering his unspoken question, “I heard about Kirkwall and I wanted to believe that maybe you weren’t involved in how horribly mages were treated there, but….’Mages cannot be treated like people. They are weapons. They must always be watched.’ Why would Leliana allow you here? She was _there_ …she heard what you said to me, she knew how you felt about us!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Cullen could see a few stray mages and Templars hovering nearby, obviously intrigued by their exchange. Instinctively, his hand went to his neck, trying to rub away the headache that was building even more. “This isn’t the best time or place for this. Maybe later we can talk….” His voice trailed off as a flash of déjà vu suddenly gripped him. Glancing to her, he realized by the way her eyes went suddenly wide and a flush rose up her neck, that the same recollection had hit her as well.

> _“Yes, maybe later…we can talk”, he had stammered nervously even as she ducked into the small library, while he followed helplessly in her wake…_
> 
> _Her shyly admitting how much his silent presence had helped her through her studies…_
> 
> _The notes, filed carefully into a small book…Chantry verses he’d slipped to her secretively…just to show he cared…_
> 
> _The grateful look in her eyes that second before…._
> 
> _Her lips crushed to his, fingers brushing against his cheek as he gathers her in his arms, losing himself in the kiss…_

Her anger seemed to dissolve in favor of an uncomfortable indecisiveness, before she muttered hastily, “I need to go meet Cassandra so we can make our report”.

Before he could say anything, she turned and literally fled back towards Haven's gates, leaving him to cast glares to the few remaining gawkers with a “Get back to work!”, then took a few deep breaths before entering the Chantry with a silent prayer.

_Maker, preserve me…I will need Your strength to get through this day…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Cullen POV, inspired by my waking up at 4am, feeling like I was the one suffering from lyrium withdrawals...along with a little something I found on Pinterest that mentioned how his PTSD over what happened at Kinloch was made even worse by his lyrium withdrawals because he was also suffering from it while he was imprisoned by the demons.


	10. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyperia discusses the Blight with Varric. The Inquisition acquires two new members. Leliana discovers just what did happen between Hyperia and Alistair over the past ten years. Hyperia apologizes to Cullen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this chapter is pretty big and jam-packed with stuff. I thought of splitting it up into two chapters, but decided against it.  
> It was a case where I originally intended not to unpack quite as much backstory, etc....but the conversations all just took on lives of their own and...well..here we are.  
> Hope you enjoy it!

“So…um….Herald, question for you…” Varric piped up one evening as they finished setting up camp on the way to Val Royeaux.

“Hmm?” The title took Hyperia off-guard. She had never really gotten used to the whole “Hero of Ferelden” thing, now this was one more she had to get used to. “I’ve finished the book, if you’re wanting it back.”

“No…that’s not it”, his tone did perk up a bit however, “But I would love to know what you thought of it. It’s kind of related to what I want to ask.”

“I…” Her voice trailed off as she pondered on how to explain how it had completely changed the way she had thought about so many things…so many people…the whole Kirkwall incident, her cousin Ysara Hawke, Anders, Cullen, even Varric himself. “It was very…eye-opening. I’m honestly still trying to process it all. But it was very good.”

Varric released a sharp sigh of obvious relief, “Oh good. Because…I was wondering that maybe one day…when this is over. Or when you have the time…if you want to…I’d like to write about the Blight. Not all the tales or glory and honor that the minstrels sing about….but the more gritty reality of it all. You know, from the point of view from someone who was there in the middle of all of it.”

“Well…okay, I suppose I could help you with that. According to your book however, you had tons of Ferelden refugees in Kirkwall. You didn’t get anything from them?”

Varric shrugged, “Most of them were too busy fleeing for their lives to have any real tales to tell. And the tales that did get told seemed completely outlandish. I mean, werewolves running around the Brecilian Forest? Undead taking over Redcliffe? Then there was the whole thing about Paragon Branka that might or might not have been true, depending on who you get your news from in Orzammar. Now the Circle Tower getting taken over by abominations…I thought that wasn’t true until Cullen mentioned that he’d been there for that. Poor guy.”

Hyperia couldn’t help but flinch slightly at that as she recalled her last angry words to Cullen the day before they had departed for Orlais. Having finally finished through the entirety of Varric’s “Tale of the Champion” and discovering that he had, in the end, stood against his fellow Templars on the side of the mages, she realized how unfair her accusations of him had been. _I will have to apologize when we return._

Dragging her thoughts back to the present, she tossed Varric a faint smirk, “Oh, all of those ‘wild tales’ were completely true.”

“You’re kidding?!” He stared at her incredulously before shaking his head, “You’re not kidding. Andraste’s flaming tits, you had to deal with the Blight and all of that too?! And now this? I don’t know if you’re the unluckiest person alive for going through all of that, or the luckiest because you’ve actually survived it all so far.”

“’So far’…there’s still a long road ahead of us and Maker knows what beyond that”, she sighed wearily. Just talking about it exhausted her. _It was rough back then, but I was 10 years younger…and had Alistair with me every step of the way to lean on and keep me going._ She cast her gaze over their small group…they were all strangers to her. The only familiar faces, Leliana and Cullen, were back in Haven. _But, everyone during the Blight….even Alistair…was a stranger once too. And we all grew into friends…and more._

She couldn’t help but compare their current group with those she travelled with during the Blight. Cassandra and Varric reminded her of Alistair and Morrigan the way they constantly threw jabs at one another. While Solas was quiet, reserved, introspective…rather like Leliana had been in the earlier days after she joined them in Lothering. _I wonder what he’s hiding_ , she mused to herself, recalling how Leliana had turned out to be more than just a humble lay-sister of the Chantry.

“We should arrive in Val Royeaux tomorrow”, Cassandra spoke up quietly, interrupting Hyperia from her ruminating, “Get some rest.”

\----------------------------------------

_One week later…_

Hyperia was exhausted. Their trip to Val Royeaux had turned out to be far more eventful than any of them could have imagined. What had been intended as a simple meeting with a few potential cleric allies had turned into quite the ordeal.

She knew things would turn sour as soon as one of Leliana’s scouts had approached them at the gates to warn them that “a great many” Templars awaited them inside the city. She might have been the “Hero of Ferelden”….but this was not Ferelden and she doubted that her status as the former Warden Commander would hold any water when the Templar Order had seemed to deteriorate into a mob hostile to all mages.

Surprisingly, however, the Templars had turned not against her, but against the Chantry itself. Even going so far as to strike down the Revered Mother who had been railing against the “heretical Inquisition and its false prophet”. But if she had thought to find allies among the Templars, their leader…a Lord Seeker Lucius…had divested them of that notion immediately. Even Cassandra seemed taken aback at the man’s posturing as he declared that the Templars would fight the chaos alone, then turned to abandon the city to its own devices.

_So much for recruiting the Templars_ , she had thought. She doubted they would want to help a mage…one they no doubt saw as a heretical apostate at that…anyway. So, it was back to their original plan to recruit the rebel mages.

An opportunity that almost literally fell into their laps when Grand Enchanter Fiona mysteriously appeared as they were wandering the city. She invited them to meet with her in Redcliffe, then slipped out almost as suddenly as she had appeared, leaving Hyperia with a dozen unanswered questions.

Fiona was the reason Hyperia had gone to the Conclave in the first place. As the leader of the rebel mages, it was expected that she would be there and she was the only Grey Warden in history who had rid herself of the darkspawn taint. Hyperia was desperate to know how she had accomplished it. She had assumed Fiona had died in the explosion, but her appearance proved otherwise.

She would have ridden straight to Redcliffe, but they had acquired two new additions to the Inquisition during their brief stay in Val Royeaux. The first was an elven girl named Sera, also known as Red Jenny, who claimed she had a retinue of “little people” who could help get things done. She proved herself to be a talented archer as well. Even though she seemed a bit…unstable, Hyperia appreciated her playful enthusiasm towards “putting things back to normal again”. Even now, she could hear the girl cheerfully chatting with Varric, asking him a million questions about Kirkwall, dwarves and his crossbow.

The second was not part of their current entourage because Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchantress to the Imperial Court of Orlais had her own carriage that would transport her to Haven without the need to travel with their ragged little band. Hyperia believed that it was mostly because Sera had already managed to offend her three times in the first minute they had met, and Solas’ presence seemed to cause her no end of grief. Lady Vivienne was a staunch supporter of the Mage Circles and, as such, viewed the elven apostate as a potential threat.

_She’d probably die of apoplexy if she knew he regularly entered the Fade and conversed with spirits_ , Hyperia mused. Hyperia’s own views on the Circle were mainly neutral. While she had resided at Kinloch, she had seen it as a necessary haven for mages. Even though the restrictions were sometimes harsh, she’d had very few issues there and, had Duncan not arrived to recruit her to the Grey Wardens, she would have been content to live out her days within its walls. But, once she was able to explore the world around her, she could not imagine ever going back and she knew there were many mages, like Anders, who would always be miserable, locked away in the Circle.

She couldn’t help but wonder what would have become of her if she had not been recruited. Would she have survived Uldred’s attack on the tower? Would she have become one of his abominations…or been locked in a cage to be tortured like Cullen? Would Alistair and a different Warden have reclaimed the tower? Or would it have fallen, either to Uldred or the darkspawn?

Even as she mulled over this, the lights of Haven glowed on the horizon. The sun was just beginning to rise. Eager to conduct their business and be off to Redcilffe, Hyperia had insisted on riding through the night, but now she was beginning to regret it, for she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to stay on her horse for much longer.

She had apparently dozed off at least once because Varric’s voice woke her with a start, “We’re here, sleepyhead.”

“Thank the Maker”, she yawned, climbing wearily from her mount to lead it to the stables. Her intent had been to stagger straight to her cottage and fall into bed, but as she was trudging up the steps to the gate, she glanced up to see Cullen heading down…apparently eager to get some early-morning training in for his troops.

“Herald, welcome back”, his greeting was terse, accompanied by a compulsory nod of respect as he strode past her.

Her mind woke up just enough to remember that she owed him an apology, “Cullen…wait.”

He paused, turning to fix her with an inquisitive frown, “What is it?”

“I…” She struggled to make her exhausted mind form the words, “I’m sorry. I was…I was wrong.” There was much more that she wanted to say, but her mind and body both decided at that moment that it was time to shut down. _Falling…okay…sleep now…_

Cullen managed to catch her just before she hit the steps, the two gate guards rushing forward anxiously, followed by Cassandra.

“Maker, I knew that riding all night was a bad idea!” The Seeker exclaimed, “She took last watch yesterday morning so she’s been up longer than any of us. But she was desperate to get back here for some reason.”

The dark-haired woman draped one of Hyperia’s arms across her shoulders as she gestured to one of the guards, “Get her other arm…let’s get her to bed.”

Cullen just stood silently and watched, though every instinct screamed to offer to take her there himself. He knew better than to intervene when Cassandra decided to take charge. She could be rather stubborn when she wanted to be…that is to say most of the time. _She was trying to tell me something…to apologize…for what? Our argument last week?_

Heaving a sigh, he turned and continued towards the tents housing his recruits. That unanswered question would have to wait until she woke up.

\----------------------------

The sun was just beginning to disappear over the horizon as Hyperia settled in by one of the campfires scattered around Haven, a bowl of some unnamed stew in one hand, a cup of cheap red wine in the other. She had only crawled out of bed an hour ago and, having not eaten for almost an entire day, she was famished. The wine might not have been the best of ideas, but she did not want to disrupt her sleep schedule any more than it already was by partaking in anything that might keep her awake all night.

She could have gone to the inn, but somehow sitting by a fire in the open air, enjoying a simple dinner, brought her some measure of comfort. Perhaps because it reminded her of all the evenings spent just like this during the Blight.

“How did I know I would find you here?” Leliana settled down beside her with a crooked smile upon her lips.

“Well, now this is really beginning to bring back memories”, Hyperia replied with a chuckle.

“Just like old times, eh? Too bad no one else is here…” Her voice trailed off for a moment before she fixed Hyperia with an inquisitive look, “I’m surprised that Alistair was not with you.”

Hyperia visibly flinched and Leliana’s eyes widened, “Oh Maker…he wasn’t at the…?”

“No, he wasn’t at the Conclave…at least as far as I know.”

“’As far as you know’? You mean…you don’t know…?”

Hyperia sighed, setting the bowl down, “No…I haven’t heard from him in…Maker, maybe two years now?”

“I thought…but, why?” Leliana’s voice was filled with a mix of dismay and confusion.

“I thought you were the spymaster…and you don’t know?” Taking a long draught of the wine, she sighed, “We’re not married anymore. Haven’t been since…well, shortly after the wedding, not long after I went to Amaranthine.”

“I don’t…” Leliana shook her head in obvious confusion, “How did I not know? Every source…everything said that you were both still blissfully together.”

Hyperia snorted derisively, “Because that’s what the Wardens wanted everyone to believe. It was ‘good for morale’, a ‘great recruiting tool’, to show Thedas our great love that had endured through the Blight and beyond. It was the subject of too many songs and tales for us to suddenly announce, ‘Oh, sorry, things didn’t work out after all.’ The annulment was kept very secret and, if anyone asked, we were supposed to keep up the façade.”

“That’s….well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“He wanted to have children…thought we could beat the odds with the taint like we did with the Archdemon. But…I’d never told him that the Circle…well, made it so that I could never have children.” She sighed, taking another long sip of the wine, “He was angry. I called him naïve, said it shouldn’t make a difference because it would have been impossible anyway. Then I got the order to go to Amaranthine…without him. I wasn’t going to take it before…but I did, just to clear my head. Two weeks later, I received the papers of annulment.”

“Oh Maker, I am so sorry”, Leliana laid a hand on her shoulder, compassion in her eyes.

“Somehow, I knew it wasn’t going to last. We were thrown together from the beginning and clung to one another because it gave us that small bit of hope that we would make it through everything the Blight threw at us. Once the Blight was over, we had to…’grow up’ and take on responsibilities…responsibilities he didn’t want. He just kept trying to follow in my footsteps, always letting me lead. I’m honestly surprised he took the initiative to request the annulment. It hurt to sign it…but it also felt…right. I wanted a husband, not a follower.”

“But you’re telling me now…”

“I’m telling you now because I’m done with the Wardens. I have been for years. I don’t care what they want or don’t want anymore. I only came to the Conclave to talk to Fiona…to see what she knew about curing the taint.”

Leliana nodded, “Speaking of the Wardens, what I came to tell you was that we’ve found a Warden named Blackwall, camping out in the Hinterlands. Since you’re planning on heading to Redcliffe, perhaps you could meet up with him and see if he knows anything about the Wardens’ disappearance.”

“Wait…’disappearance’?”

“Yes, you and Alistair are not the only ones we haven’t been able to find since before the explosion. It’s as though they’ve all just…vanished. It’s very peculiar…and suspicious.”

“You think they might have had something to do with the death of the Divine?”

“I would hope not! I was hoping you might know…but since you haven’t had contact with them in so long….now we need to find this Blackwall and see if he knows anything.”

“Alright”, feeling her head starting to get a bit muzzy from the wine, she picked up the bowl and eagerly began downing the stew. She was so intent on her meal that she hardly noticed that someone else had joined them at the fire.

“Good evening, Commander”, Leliana said cordially to the newest arrival.

Hyperia glanced up, having just shoveled a spoonful of stew into her mouth, as Cullen settled in across from them, “Leliana….Herald.”

Hyperia rolled her eyes and covered her mouth as she attempted to talk around the stew, “Maker’s Breath, would you stop calling me that? I have a name, you know!”

She could hear Leliana barely stifle a chuckle as the spymaster rose to her feet with an “I’ll talk to you later”, before she headed into the dusky evening.

“My apologies, Lady Amell, I…”

Swallowing the bite of food, she groaned, “Hyperia…my name is Hyperia. Did you forget over the past ten years?!”

“No, of course not…I just…”

She waved him off with a gesture and sighed, “I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be apologizing, not tearing into you more.”

Cullen eyed her curiously across the fire, “You were trying to say something this morning before you…umm…passed out.”

“Ugh…again”, she cringed, “It’s getting embarrassing.”

“Cassandra said that you have been riding all night. It’s understandable.”

“The mighty ‘Herald of Andraste’ pitches face-first into the snow right in front of everyone. I’m sure that really helped my reputation”, she muttered sullenly.

“I think it does. People see you as human, not some untouchable, infallible icon.”

Hyperia tossed him a look of confusion, “But I thought the Inquisition wanted an ‘untouchable infallible icon’. Hence all of the ‘Herald of Andraste’ nonsense.”

“What the Inquisition wants and what it really needs are sometimes two entirely different things”, he said with a shrug. “Besides, Andraste’s humanity is what makes her appealing to so many.”

“Maker, don’t start comparing me to Andraste now!”, she exclaimed, though a tiny voice inside couldn’t help but wonder if he still found her appealing as well.

“Don’t worry….I’ve seen you when you first wake up in the morning, so I’m more than aware that you’re not Andraste”, he chuckled as she shot him a suspicious glare. “At the Circle…”

“Oh…right”, a flush rose up her face at where her mind had gone for a brief moment. She coughed once, uncomfortably, before regaining her composure, “So…I finished Varric’s book.” She took a deep breath, “I just wanted to apologize for what I said before I left. All I had read up to that point was how badly the mages were treated there and what you said about us not being people. But…you defended them in the end against Meredith. So…I guess you’ve….changed your mind?”

Cullen raked a hand through his hair and sighed, “You were right to judge. I said and did things that I’m not proud of since what happened back at Kinloch. I did hate mages, I feared them, for what they had done. That fear consumed me and I was glad to be as harsh as she wanted because I felt they deserved it. Blood magic was rampant there…” He trailed off in thought for a moment, staring into the fire, “…though looking back, I can’t help but wonder if Meredith cracked down because of the blood magic, or the mages turned to it because of what she did. It was already growing out of control when I arrived, so I assumed the strict measures were set in place because of it.”

They both sat in silence for a long moment before she replied quietly, “I understand. Had our positions been reversed, I probably would have hated and feared all Templars. I guess…” She paused chewing her lip thoughtfully for a moment, “…I’m lucky most of the ones I encountered were good people, like you, back then.”

“I…ummm”, he cleared his throat, her compliment taking him off-guard, “…thank you. I always thought I was a bit idealistic and naive. Then, what happened….drove me to be the complete opposite. I’m trying to find a good balance now between the two: knowing the danger, but not fearing it so much as to look upon every mage with unbridled suspicion.”

“Good”, she stated simply…even though there were so many other things running through her mind that she wanted to say, but didn’t trust that they would come out right. Rising to her feet, she said, “I should get some rest since we’re leaving for Redcliffe in the morning.” A playful glint sparkled in her eyes with the firelight, “I hope you’re up for an influx of rebel mages.”

Cullen groaned, “I guess I’ll have to be. Just…be careful. There’s no telling how many of them could be blood mages…or worse. This could be a trap.”

“I will. I don’t think Fiona would do something like that, but I’ll keep my eyes open.” Tossing him a faint smile, she said, “Good night, Cullen” and made her way back to her cottage.

“Good night…Hyperia”, his words followed her retreating form as he settled back with a sigh, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from his chest.


	11. The False Warden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when the Hero of Ferelden meets up with a Warden impostor?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a whole lot to unpack here. Gameplay and head-canon and of course a whole lot of awkwardness when Hyperia meets Blackwall. Plus, more slow build awkwardness between Hyperia and Cullen, and preparations to confront Alexius in Redcliffe.  
> This is one of those chapters that I pondered splitting up, but opted to just make it one nice long chapter. I'm skipping a lot of gameplay by head-canoning that Hyperia leaves a lot of the minor tasks/missions to her many Inquisition minions, so that I can get to the good stuff and explore more head-canon as opposed to getting bogged down in rehashing the game.  
> Enjoy!

_Blackwall….where do I know that name?_ , Hyperia pondered to herself as their party trudged their way towards the small cabin tucked away beside a lake. Their boots squelched in the mud, the area having been soaked by a brief, heavy shower not long after they arrived.

_He’s a Warden, but somehow I feel like I’ve read about him somewhere. Maybe in the histories or one of the hundreds of boring reports that got shoveled across my desk._ She certainly didn’t miss the paperwork that was inflicted upon her during her brief stint as Warden-Commander. She’d almost face down the archdemon again rather than wade through all of the bureaucracy.

“You’re not hiding, you’re holding! Otherwise, it’s useless!” A sturdy, dark-haired man was addressing a trio of scared-looking young men who were clutching battered swords and shields in the small yard outside the cabin. He did not wear the distinctive blue-and-silver armor of the Wardens, but a simple padded navy blue gambeson with a steel cuirass bearing the griffons of the Order.

_Maker, are the Wardens recruiting raw farm boys these days?_ , she mused before calling out to him, “Warden Blackwall?”

He fixed her with a glare, lips curling into a scowl beneath the thick beard that trailed to his chest, as he stalked over to address her gruffly, “You’re not— Who are you? How do you know my name?”

Before she could answer, his arm suddenly snapped up, raising his own shield to intercept an arrow that had been shot directly at her head. From the trees beyond, a rallying cry rang out. Lowering his shield, Blackwall fixed her with another glare, “That’s it! Either help or get out! We’re dealing with these idiots first!”

The raiding party was small, so with the four of them added to Blackwall and his contingent of recruits, they made short work of the bandits. As the last one fell, Blackwall turned to address his charges, “Good work, conscripts. Take back what they stole and go back to your families. You’ve earned it.”

Looking rather shaken, the three quickly looted the bodies and ran off, leaving Hyperia a moment to study the man…and come to a startling revelation.

Blackwall watched his “conscripts” leave before turning to Hyperia and her group, “You’re no farmer. Who are you and how do you know my name?”

They had agreed before embarking on this expedition that, initially, if this “Blackwall” did not recognize her as the Hero of Ferelden and former Warden-Commander that they would not reveal it…not until they knew more about what was going on with the Wardens. _And I’m sure they’re still none too pleased with my disappearance all those years ago_ , she had said.

However, the more Hyperia studied the man, the more certain she was that this was not Warden Blackwall…or any Warden at all. So, she merely offered a crooked smile, “I’ve been called a lot of things by a lot of people over the past ten years.”

Blackwall merely snorted, “Well, I’m asking you now….stop dancing.”

Before she could respond, Cassandra spoke up, “We’re Inquisition…trying to determine why the Wardens have disappeared and if it has anything to do with the Divine’s murder.”

“Maker’s balls”, he cursed, shaking his head, “The Wardens and the Divine? You can’t be—no, you’re asking so you don’t really know.” He seemed to ponder something for a moment, then shrugged, “I don’t know either. ‘Disappeared’? Well, we do that. No more Blight, and we just fade into the woodwork. And we’re not political, so murdering the Divine? Impossible.”

Hyperia narrowed her eyes before walking within a foot of him and staring straight at him, “I might believe you…if you were actually a Grey Warden at all.”

His eyes widened as he took a step back, the blood draining from his ruddy features, “What? How..how dare you say that?! What do _you_ know?”

“What are you, some kind of idiot?!” Sera piped up, the blonde elven girl eyeing Blackwall with her hands on her hips, lips twisted in a scowl. “You don’t recognize like _The Most Famous Warden Ever_ when she’s standing right in front of you?!”

A sly smile curved Hyperia’s lips, “Well, since I refused to stand for a sculptor, they had to put up griffon statues after the Blight, so I guess he might not have ever seen what I look like.”

“Andraste’s flaming ---“, Blackwall sputtered.

She chuckled, “Despite what they all say….no, nothing to do with Andraste. Hyperia Amell, former Warden-Commander of Ferelden, Hero of Ferelden, and an _actual_ Warden who can sense that you do not have the taint…and you _really_ are…?”

He backed away, stammering, “Oh Maker….forgive me. I—you’re right, I’m not a Warden. I—Blackwall recruited me. I was supposed to take the Joining in Val Chevin, but he died on the way. I…took his name out of respect and because…I was trying to escape my past. Wardens were men and women who knew what honor and sacrifice meant. We all need to believe there are still such left in the world and…well… I needed to believe I could be one of them.”

She studied him for a long moment, then shrugged, “Well, I suppose I can’t fault you too much for that.” _Considering I’m a Warden who’s been trying very hard over the past nine years to not be associated with the Wardens, it’s ironic to run into someone who is the complete opposite_ , she added silently. “What’s your real name?”

“Thom….Thomas Randall, m’lady”, he seemed to recover a bit, sketching a gentile bow to her, “It is a singular honor to meet you.”

She chuckled, “Oh, I’m sure you’ll change your mind about that soon enough. I’m not exactly the paragon of Warden virtue or the mighty hero the tales make me out to be.”

“You killed the Archdemon and ended the Fifth Blight! I’d say that makes you a pretty damn big hero”, he replied with no small amount of reverence in his voice.

“I didn’t exactly do it alone”, she said, waving off his compliment, “So, you’re not a Warden, but you seem to be a decent fighter. You’re still welcome to join the Inquisition if you wish to. We’re heading to Redcliffe to speak to the rebel mages. You can come along if you wish, or you can head to Haven and speak to Commander Cullen who is in charge of our military forces.”

“I would be honored to accompany you, thank you.”

“Are you gonna start kissing her boots now, or what?” Sera giggled, “I mean, you suck up to her any harder and you might as well drag her off now to your cabin for a little…” Grinning, she thrust her hips forward suggestively, eliciting a groan from Hyperia and Cassandra.

“What..no…I…she’s married!” Thom exclaimed.

Whaaatt?!” Sera turned to look at Hyperia wide-eyed before nodding, “Oh yeah, I remember the songs now, ‘bout you and Alistair. Where…”

Before she could continue, Hyperia cut her off with a sharp gesture, “This isn’t the time or place. Now, let’s go. And don’t you start in either”, she growled at Varric, “I see that look in your eyes.”

“Whoa…sorry…I’m good. You tell that story when you’re ready”, he said defensively, hands raised in surrender as he backed away from her baleful glare.

The mood now considerably soured, the five of them made their way to Redcliffe in silence.

\--------------------------

Two Weeks Later…

_I can’t believe this whole thing is on hold for some Tevinter Magister_ , Hyperia grumbled inwardly as she rolled out of bed, a headache beginning to form between her eyes.

Her enthusiasm for arriving in Redcliffe to speak with Fiona had been thoroughly dashed upon discovering that a contingent of Tevinter, led by a magister named Alexius and his son, Felix, had essentially “recruited” the entirety of the rebel mages. Fiona not only insisted that she had never been to Val Royeaux, but was, as “one who is indentured to a Magister”, completely tight-lipped on anything beyond the most basic details of his arrival. The whole situation had a wrongness to it…

…which was eventually verified by one of Alexius’ former protégées, a mage named Dorian. According to him, Alexius used some sort of time magic to travel to Redcliffe to recruit the mages before she could. Apparently, the Magister had some sort of obsession with her…which she had suspected the minute she met him, from the slimy way he’d eyed her, muttering under his breath, “So you’re the survivor….interesting.” Dorian offered to spy on his former mentor and report to them, while she was faced with no other choice at the moment except to wait for Alexius to make up his mind about helping her.

_Any sort of help he’d offer would no doubt be a trap or twisted to work in his favor,_ she thought as she splashed water on her face and pulled on her clothes. _We should have found a way to just take all the mages anyway…I’m sure our army is larger than his…_

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tentative knock on the cabin door. “Come in!”

The familiar armor-clad form of the Inquisition Commander stood silhouetted in the doorway, “I apologize if I’m disturbing you, Heral—Hyperia.”

She couldn’t help but fight back a smile at how Cullen still wasn’t completely comfortable with actually calling her by name. “You’re not, Cullen.” _He’s trying to be formal, so that means there’s some sort of news._ “Have we heard back from Redcliffe?”

He shook his head as he stepped into the tiny cabin, “No, but your party to the Storm Coast is back: that mercenary group, Bull’s Chargers, and the Warden fellow…who I guess isn’t actually a Warden, according to Cassandra?”

“Thomas….right. He’s no Warden. He was just a recruit…trying to be one.” She shrugged, still rather perplexed by the man’s whole story.

“Very odd”, Cullen mused, “Why would he do that?”

Hyperia shrugged, “Well, apparently he was on his way to the Joining and his Warden recruiter died. So, he just took up his name in his honor and pretended to be a Warden.”

“But, why wouldn’t he have just presented himself to the Wardens and told them what happened?”

“He was afraid they’d think he’d killed him, according to him. Though why he would kill a Warden then offer to join them….makes no sense. But there’s a lot about him that doesn’t, if you ask me.”

Cullen eyed her in confusion, “Yet you still recruited him. I assume that means you trust him.”

“I…”, she sighed, shrugging, “I don’t know, to be honest. All I can think of is, if Duncan had died on the way to Ostagar, what would I have done?”

“Do you know?”

A wry smile tugged at her lips, “Absolutely. I would have turned right around and gone back to the Circle and faced whatever punishment Greagoir wanted to mete out for my role in Jowan’s escape.”

Cullen blinked in obvious surprise, “You’re joking?! What you did was at Irving’s behest. Why would you have been punished for it?”

“You heard what they did to Lily. Even though she had no idea Jowan was a blood mage, Greagoir still sentenced her to Aeonar…the harshest punishment there is…for helping him escape.”

“And you would have risked the same? Why?!”

She found she couldn’t meet his gaze, her features pinched. _What do I say? “Because I wanted to go back to you”? I…can’t. It’s been ten years and it just sounds so silly and naïve now._ “The Circle…it was my home back then. I was….afraid to leave.”

“I understand. Though it was a good thing that you were able to. What happened after…”, his voice trailed off for a moment, “I wouldn’t….”

Anything he had to say after that was interrupted by another knock, followed by Leliana’s distinctive lilt, “Hyperia? Oh…hello Cullen…I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have word back from Redcliffe…”

“Thank the Maker”, she exclaimed, “It’s about time! I’ll meet you two in the War Room in a few minutes.”

“Of course”, Leliana merely flashed her a brief sly smile before following Cullen from the cabin.

\-------------------------------

“We don’t have the manpower to take the castle!” Cullen’s voice rose through the thick door as Hyperia pushed it open to join the rest of them in the small room. “We have to either find another way in or just give up this nonsense and go get the Templars!”

Cassandra shook her head with a sigh, “Redcliffe is in the hands of a Magister. We _cannot_ let this stand.”

Josephine canted a brief nod of welcome to Hyperia before addressing the rest, “The letter from Alexius asked for her by name. It’s an obvious trap.”

Hyperia merely rolled her eyes, “Lovely…anything else interesting in that letter?”

“He’s so complimentary of you, we’re certain he wants to kill you”, Leliana replied sardonically.

Before Hyperia could reply, Cullen spoke up testily, “Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled dozens of assaults.” Turning to her, she could see…something…in his eyes…concern?...as he continued urgently, “If you go in there, you will die. And I…we will lose the only means of closing the rifts.” His voice dropped slightly as he cut his gaze away, “I will not allow it.”

_He almost sounds like…he cares?_ , she thought even as Leliana spoke up.

“But if we don’t even try to meet Alexius, we lose the mages _and_ leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep.”

Josephine then continued, “Even if we could assault the keep, it would be for naught. An ‘Orlesian’ Inquisition’s army marching into Ferelden would start a war. Our hands are tied!”

Feeling the headache beginning to build, Hyperia rubbed her temples, her gaze falling upon a cup of tea upon the table in the spot where she always stood. As her advisors continued bickering, she silently sipped the tea, trying to dredge some sort of solution through the discomfort.

“The Magister—“ Cassandra began.

“—has outplayed us”, Cullen interrupted just as Hyperia felt a memory beginning to surface.

“Wait…Leliana…the castle”, she began, frowning as she took another sip of the tea before continuing, “During the Blight…when the undead rose, there was a secret passage, remember?”

Leliana’s eyes widened as she nodded, “Yes…how could I forget! The escape tunnels for the family! We could use those to sneak agents into the castle.”

Cullen frowned, “Too risky. Those agents would be discovered before they could reach the Magister.”

“Not if he was distracted”, Leliana’s lips curved into a devious smile, “Perhaps by the envoy he is so desperate to meet?”

Hyperia chuckled, “So I get to be bait, now?”

As she spoke the door opened behind her, admitting Dorian, followed by a rather harried-looking agent, “Fortunately, you’ll have help!”

The agent shrugged apologetically before gesturing to the Tevinter mage as he addressed Cullen, “He says he has information regarding the Magister and his methods, Commander.”

Dorian nodded and flashed their group a disarming smile, “Your spies will never get past Alexius’ magic without my help. That’s why I’m coming along.”

“Well, I guess we’re set, then”, Hyperia said with a shrug before downing the last of the tea. She wasn’t sure if it was the tea or the fact that things were finally progressing, but her headache was beginning to fade.

“You don’t have to do this, you know”, Cullen interjected, “We can still go speak to the Templars if you’d rather not be bait”.

_I’m not sure what has him more worried, my playing the bait or the possibility that I’d be bringing an army of apostates onto our doorstep._ But, she couldn’t help but smile at his obvious concern and chuckled, “I doubt they’d be any more receptive…or less dangerous. I’m a mage…walking into Templar headquarters would be like walking into the mouth of a dragon.”

Before he could contradict her, Cassandra spoke up, “It’s decided then. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.”

As everyone filed out of the room, she heard Cullen mutter a quiet, “Maker watch over you all”.

_We’re going to need it_ , she silently thought in reply.


	12. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyperia and her companions return from their ordeal in Redcliffe. Once again, she feels the weight of a hero's responsibility on her shoulders, while Dorian has his own demons to face. And Cullen forces memories to the surface that neither of them would like to recall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Andraste, but this chapter fought me at every turn. I literally have three different versions of the Redcliffe segment all written out, all with varying amount of head-canon vs. gameplay. I did not want to do a rehash, but everything I tried ended up turning into one. Add to that, head-canon thoughts and conversations and they were all getting really ponderous.  
> I had an idea brewing for the following chapter, but after getting inspired by a "Pride and Prejudice" clip a friend posted (you'll see its influence in the last scene), I decided to just go with interjecting flashbacks to the actual gameplay in this chapter (and probably throughout subsequent chapters as well) and running with my idea.  
> Hope you like it!

It could not have been a more miserable day, in Hyperia’s opinion. Storm clouds hovered overhead, rumbling in echo to the Breach that still tore a scar in the sky, and a slow foggy drizzle coated everything in a damp, cold mist. All she wanted right now was a warm bed and a cold, stiff drink to drown out the events of the past few days(?)...she honestly didn’t even know how many had passed, it was all such a blur. Cassandra and Varric reassured her that her trip to that bleak future with Dorian had only been in the blink of an eye to them. But, she had lived that future in Maker only knows how many dismal hours or days.

Most everyone she knew, dead. Varric, Cassandra and Fiona, infected with red lyrium. Leliana, tortured and experimented on until she was a literal husk of her former self. From the instant Alexius’ rift had dumped them in that flooded prison cell one year in the future, it had all been an endless litany of despair and death. It did not help that everywhere she turned in the ruined castle, she was faced with memories from the previous times she had been there.

_The main hall where we freed Conner from the desire demon…and the last place I saw Jowan before Irving took him back to the Circle to meet his fate._

_The room where Riordan told us the price Grey Wardens must pay in order to defeat the archdemon…then Alistair’s room, where I had to tell him the price he would have to pay to save both our lives._

_And my room…where we spent that one last night, desperately clinging to hope…and each other._

All of it was now in shambles…twisted and desecrated by the Venatori and their red lyrium. Even when the undead had overrun the castle, it had not been in such a state. Now it was demons, Venatori, and this ‘Elder One’ that apparently was behind all of it. And who had managed to assassinate the Empress of Orlais and raise a demon army to conquer all of southern Thedas, completely crushing the Inquisition in the process.

All of this they gleaned from the future Varric and Cassandra. Leliana remained stubbornly close-lipped from the time they rescued her, every trace of the friend Hyperia once knew, replaced by an angry, bitter woman, shaped by her ordeal over the past year.

_“Nothing happened that you want to hear.”_

Coming across the occasional journals and notes from Alexius and his allies, Hyperia was relatively certain that was true. They revealed only a small portion of the horrors inflicted on the world and its people, and it was more than enough to make her stomach churn. What hit her the hardest though, was the one thought of, _“All of this happened just because I wasn’t there.”_

Alexius tried to remove her from time altogether…she couldn’t help but wonder what consequences that might have had. _I wouldn’t have been there to help stop the Blight…so it’s possible the Breach, this Elder One, the Venatori…they wouldn’t even be around if the darkspawn overran Thedas. He should probably be thankful that it failed._

Still, that thought weighed heavily upon her once they were back to their original time. _Once again, everything hinges on me. Or…does it? Will I even be able to make a difference…make sure this doesn’t happen? What if we fail? That future may come to pass, regardless._

It was a dismal thought to match the dismal weather. She was grateful Dorian was willing, as the only other person to experience that bleak future with her, to talk about it on their journey back to Haven. She found the charming Tevinter mage had his own personal demons to wrestle with in regards to their experience, however.

_“He was my mentor…my patron. But, after Felix fell ill, I left. He’d grown more obsessive about it and I just…didn’t want to deal with it. What if I had stayed? Could I have talked him out of this foolishness?”_

He’d laughed, a bitter sound, as he shook his head in obvious irony, _“’Foolishness’. That’s such a mild way of putting ‘He allied with crazy extremists to try and tear apart the fabric of time’. Still, I wonder…”_

Once they had stabled their mounts and made their way through the gates, Cassandra turned to her, “I sent a brief report on with one of Leliana’s birds, but they’re going to want to speak to us about what happened….and, we need to prepare for all of these mages.”

Hyperia groaned, “Very well. Let’s get this over with, then”, as they made their way to the Chantry.

Josephine, Cullen and Leliana (who Hyperia was glad to see as her young and vibrant self again) all awaited them as they trudged within, still dripping from the lightly-falling rain. Hyperia already knew this wasn’t going to go well as soon as they entered and Cullen’s voice rose.

“This isn’t a matter for debate! There will be abominations among the mages and we must be prepared!”

Josephine sighed, replying in her usual calm, even tones, the diplomat in her obviously coming to the fore, “If we rescind our offer of an alliance, it will make the Inquisition appear incompetent at best, tyrannical at worst.”

The three turned at their approach, Cullen fixing Hyperia with an angry glare, “What were you thinking, turning mages loose with no oversight?! The Veil is torn open!”

She was tired, wet, and miserable…and his accusations were beginning to bring back memories of when he spat similar words to her many years ago.

_“You cannot tell maleficarum by sight! To ensure this horror is ended, to guarantee no abominations remain, you must kill everyone! Maker turn his gaze on you. I hope your compassion hasn’t doomed us all.”_

Before she could reply, he whirled on Cassandra, “You were there, Seeker, why didn’t you say something?!”

 _She did_ , Hyperia thought angrily. _She made her displeasure clear with but a few words: “We will discuss this…later.”_ Expecting that now she would have to defend her actions against both of them, Cassandra actually surprised her.

“While I may not completely agree with the decision, I support it.” Noting Hyperia’s surprised glance, she merely shrugged, “The sole point of going was to secure the mages’ aid…and we did.”

“Ah, the voice of pragmatism speaks!” Dorian’s voice called out as he stepped through the doors. Hyperia couldn’t help but wonder how the man managed to not look like a sodden mess from being out in the rain. _Tevinter magic, perhaps. I shall have to get him to show me that trick some time._

Cassandra turned to him with a shrug, “Closing the Breach is all that matters.”

“We need to make preparations”, Cullen grumbled, realizing that he was obviously outnumbered, and turned to Hyperia with a faintly apologetic nod, “When you’re ready to discuss them, we can meet in the War Room. None of this is possible without your mark, after all.”

Still bristling from his earlier outburst, she merely turned to stride towards the doors, calling out sardonically over her shoulder, “Then my mark can attend the meeting. I’m going to take a nap…or have a drink…or two…or both”. Her voice trailed off as she disappeared into the rain, leaving them all to stare at the door, dumbfounded.

Dorian spoke up first, attempting to lighten the mood a bit, “Well, I think I’ll skip the war council, but I’d definitely like a look at this breach at some point before it gets closed.”

“So…you’re staying?”, Cassandra asked with mild surprise.

Dorian merely chuckled, a grin on lips framed by a well-maintained mustache, “Of course! The South is so rustic, I adore it to little bitty pieces!” Catching Cullen’s suspicious glance, he waggled his finger, “Now, don’t look at me like that, Templar! I’ll remind you who made sure your agents made it into the castle unscathed…and who managed to bring your Herald back from the future…also unscathed.”

“I….” Cullen began, then shrugged, “You’re right.” Raking a hand through his hair, he sighed, “We can table all of this until the morning. The mages won’t all be here until tomorrow anyway.”

\------------------------

_About an hour later…._

Cullen studied the map spread across the table for what was probably the hundredth time. He knew there was not much sense in planning anything yet, but he knew with the impending arrival of mages…and the possibility of abominations or blood mages among them, with the memories that engendered…he would not sleep well tonight. So, he put it off for as long as he could. But now his vision was beginning to blur as he stared at the markers dotting various points of interest.

Reluctantly, he exited the Chantry and began making his way through the town towards the small tent city that had become his home since he joined the Inquisition. As he slogged through the mud, he caught sight of a figure, silhouetted against the rain and sputtering torches, staggering slightly as though barely able to keep their footing.

As he drew near, he recognized it as Hyperia…currently drenched to the bone and trying to maintain her grip on a bottle as she picked her way across the slippery ground. Apparently sensing him, she turned with a sudden, startled motion and nearly fell, his hand flashing out to grasp her arm to haul her back upright again.

Peering at him through dripping red hair, she scowled, snatching her arm away from him, “Don’t touch me!”

For a moment, he just stood agape at her outburst, as she picked her way slowly up towards her cabin. Unable to stop himself, he followed her, waiting until she had stepped into the dry interior before speaking, “If this is about earlier…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you out like that in front of the others.”

She whirled on him, eyes narrowed, “So…now you’re here to call me out in private?! To…once again…tell me what an ignorant fool I am for trusting mages?!”

“No, I…”

Everything that had been bottled up within her for the past ten years finally came spilling out, emboldened by the liquor she’d been imbibing and sharpened to a fine point with exhaustion and her recent ordeal, “What would you have me do? Lock them up until we march them to the breach? Once it’s closed, then what? We execute them all…purge them…’just to make sure no abominations or blood mages remain’, just so you can feel safe?!”

He winced as she threw his own words back at him from all of those years ago, “No…I was wrong then. You did what you thought was right and…it worked out. I'm sure you'll do the same now. Back in the Chantry…I was just…I wanted to make sure everyone knew the risks.”

“You think I don’t know the risks, Cullen?! I **am** a mage, in case you forgot! I know all too well how much you distrust us! I’m damn well surprised you don’t have a Templar following **me** around to keep an eye on me, considering what I can do!”

He glanced away, unable to voice what he was thinking, _No, because I’ve taken on that duty myself…and not because I don’t trust you._ As he glanced back up to meet her angry gaze, he suddenly realized how close she was standing to him. So close, he could smell the liquor on her breath…it had a rather pleasant citrusy-mint smell and, for a fleeting second, he wondered what it would taste like on her lips. A drop of water slowly slid down one auburn tendril of hair that trailed along her cheek. He clenched his hand into a fist to keep from reaching up and moving it from her eyes.

As he stood there, frozen in place by her proximity, the anger seemed to gradually fade from her features in favor of confusion and wariness. She parted her lips to speak, but before she could say anything, he tersely muttered, “I’m sorry for taking up your time”, before spinning on one heel and striding back into the rain, leaving her to watch him with growing confusion from the doorway, the lyrics from the last song she heard in the tavern, still echoing in her ears….

 _Promise_  
Surviving  
The Breach  
In the Sky

 _Templar_  
Igniting  
Fire inside me

 _Maker_  
Remind me  
Gone are the days  
Of our peace


	13. It Only Gets Worse...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hangovers are the worst, and after successfully sealing the Breach, Hyperia Amell is ready to return to the solitary life she once knew...but, fate has other plans...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a two-parter covering "In Your Heart Shall Burn". Being that this is probably my favorite main quest in the game, I really want to give it the treatment it deserves. I was going to try to cram it all into one chapter, but considering I was at almost 4000 words at the end of this part, I decided to split it up. Plus, the next part is going to be a POV switch over to Cullen and maybe one or two others.  
> Lots of feels will be had...  
> Enjoy!

A faint tapping on her door awoke Hyperia the next morning. She stirred reluctantly with a groan. “Ugh…what?” Her head felt like it was fit to explode and the empty bottle of Averana testified as to the reason behind it.

She barely heard the door open and footsteps approach her bed before a distinctly herbal scent wafted to her senses. “I heard that you might be needing this”, Cassandra’s voice filtered through the pounding in her head.

She lifted her head from the pillow to squint at the mug of steaming tea warily. Wincing with every movement that sent yet another sharp pain through her skull, she slowly pushed herself upright and took the mug, giving it a tentative sip.

“It should help with your headache”, Cassandra said, a faint hint of amusement in her tone, “We can’t have you trying to close the Breach with a massive hangover, after all.”

Warmth suffused her body and she could almost feel the pounding subside just slightly as she continued to sip the tea, “Thank you.”

Cassandra shrugged, “Wasn’t my doing. It was Cullen’s.” At Hyperia’s surprised glance, the Seeker’s lips tugged into a sly smile, “I get the feeling he meant it as a peace offering. I assume for yelling at you yesterday.”

Hyperia’s gaze dropped into the mug, her thoughts awhirl as she sifted through her hazy memories of the night before and came to a sudden realization. _I was yelling at him, but…for a moment…I’d almost swear…he looked like he wanted to kiss me._ Shaking the thought away as a drunken imagining, she nodded, murmuring, “Probably.”

“Well, I will let you get dressed and…recover. But, we are ready to get this underway whenever you are. There should be enough mages here now to do what needs to be done.” Hyperia could sense a tinge of impatience in the Seeker’s words.

_Maker, I must seem a terrible let-down sometimes. The mighty Hero of Ferelden who they were expecting to be some sort of paragon of virtue and strength, turns out to be a clumsy, drunken mess who passes out on a regular basis and is hungover on the ‘big day’._

Attempting to keep the weariness from her voice, she nodded, “I will be there shortly. I’m just as ready to get this over with as anyone.” _Probably more_ , she added silently.

\--------------------------------

As they rode towards the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Hyperia could feel a tension in the air. Her headache had mostly subsided in favor of a faint throbbing as her thoughts went in a million different directions in anticipation.

_It’s almost like the journey to Denerim all over again. Armies at my back and the knowledge that this will finally be over, one way or another._

Their army was not nearly as vast this time, though. A selected assembly of experienced mages would provide the ritual to infuse her with the power she would need to…hopefully…close the Breach. Though she could not see them, Cullen and a handful of Templars followed in their wake.

_He’s not taking chances, of course. To be honest, I can’t blame him. So many things could go wrong with this….catastrophically wrong. We just have to pray that they don’t._

As they passed through the ruined archways leading into the Temple, her gaze was drawn upwards once again to the Breach, swirling malevolently overhead, pulses of emerald lightning cracking in response to her presence. The closer she drew, the more it seemed to react.

Solas, Dorian and Vivienne each led a group of mages around the perimeter, where they took their places in a perfect circle enclosing the courtyard. She could hear them call out to the mages, Solas’ voice over the rest since his mages were stationed directly behind her.

“Focus on the Herald! Let your magic flow through her!”

Cassandra gave her one last encouraging nod, before stepping away. Taking a deep breath, she turned to signal Solas to begin. _Well…here we go. This should be interesting…_

As one, her three mage companions thrust their staves into the rocky ground, releasing a single distinct chime. At the signal, the assembled mages all followed suit in perfect synchronization, the tone swelling as Hyperia could feel the magic build around her.

The mark flared, with the Breach following suit as she thrust her hand skyward, a surge of energy filling her body. For the first time, there was no pain…only exhilaration.

_Maker, please let this work…_ she thought as she channeled the power, sending it into the heart of the Breach. She could almost feel it…resist…but for an instant before everything exploded in a bright white light.

Staggering back, she tried to blink away the spots that swam in her vision. She could hear groans and feet shuffling on the rocky ground as everyone attempted to regain their footing. One set of feet crunched up beside her and a hand fell on her shoulder.

“You did it”, Cassandra’s voice whispered with relief and a sort of…reverence.

Once she had recovered her footing and vision somewhat, Hyperia lifted her gaze upward to see that it was true. The Breach was gone…only a circle of ordinary clouds remained, like a scar over an old wound. She was torn between laughing and crying. Residual energy from the spell still coursed through her body, giving her a vigor she had not felt in a long time. She wanted to sing, dance, laugh….but she settled for flashing Cassandra a grin before dashing to her mount and riding at breakneck speed back to Haven.

_It’s over…it’s finally over. I can get back to my life again._ She was mildly disappointed to find that the mark was still on her hand, but with the Breach gone, she hoped it wouldn’t cause a problem. _And they won’t need me anymore. It did its job._

She felt a small burst of melancholy at the thought, though. She had come to call most of them friends over the short time since she’d fallen from the rift. Cassandra and Varric had become steadfast friends and companions during their journeys. And Leliana….she hated leaving her again. It had been so nice to share her company after so long.

Then there was Cullen. The thought of him brought so many conflicting and confusing emotions to the surface. They’d almost spent more time yelling at one another than anything else. But, the way he had looked at her last night…if she hadn’t been imagining it…made her heart skip more than a little bit.

_No, that’s ridiculous. Why would he…after all this time? We’re not the same idealistic, naïve youngsters we were back in the Circle. It was just as he said back then: a “foolish, ill-advised infatuation”. A Templar and a mage…it would never…_ A small voice interrupted teasingly, _He’s not a Templar anymore, though._

The sounds of cheering and music interrupted her thoughts. She had been so lost in them, she hadn’t realized she had already reached Haven. The entire town was already celebrating, apparently. Before she could even dismount, the people of Haven had rushed to greet her with cheers.

“Praise Andraste, you did it!”

“Thank you, Herald!”

“We knew you would!”

She didn’t want to be a hero…but this, it felt good. She’d been on her own for so long…and told herself that’s what she wanted…that hearing just these simple words of thanks for the townspeople who worked tirelessly in the background while she and the other had dealt with things they couldn’t even imagine, brought tears unbidden to her eyes in gratitude.

They encircled her, yet gave her enough room to walk, as though just being in her presence was enough, as she made her way through the gates. A celebration was just starting to get into full swing, the smell of food wafting through the air, accompanied by the clink of glasses raised in toast. They offered her a place by the fire and pressed food and drink into her hands, while the music played and the people danced.

\------------------------------

The sun had nearly disappeared beneath the horizon when Cassandra found her thoughtfully staring up at where the Breach had been. The townspeople had not ceased their revelry, though the tone of it was a bit less raucous than it had been a few hours ago.

“Solas reports that the heavens are scarred, but calm. The Breach is sealed”, the Seeker spoke quietly at her shoulder. “Lingering rifts remain, and there are still many questions we have yet to answer…but this was a victory. Word of your heroism has spread.”

Hyperia couldn’t help but chuckle, “Don’t they know I fell into this…quite literally?”

“Perhaps you’re too close to judge”, Cassandra replied with a faint smirk, “We needed you. We still do.”

Hyperia flinched slightly at that. She’d spent the post hour or so pondering over what to say...how to tell them that she was leaving. Part of her debated just slipping out in the early morning hours, a note already penned to tell them her reasons. But, she felt she owed it to Cassandra and Leliana at least to give them some warning.

“Cassandra…I’m done. You needed me to close the Breach and I did. You can take care of the rest without me.”

The Seeker’s eyes snapped to her, wide in surprise, “We still don’t know what caused this! Or the mark on your hand…which I see is still there. Aren’t you worried about that? Not to mention, this ‘Elder One’ who, according to what you found in Redcliffe, is behind all of this!”

She sighed, shrugging, “As long as it’s not going to kill me anymore, I can live with it. As far as the ‘Elder One’…I’ve had more than my share already of chasing down ancient evils. It’s someone else’s turn now.”

Cassandra gaped at her in shock for a moment before heaving a disappointed sigh, “We cannot force you to stay. I just hoped…”

Anything further she had to say was interrupted by the sound of alarm bells ringing over the town. Even through their din, she could hear Cullen’s voice cry out, “Forces approach! To arms! To arms!”

“What the…?!” Cassandra gasped as she drew her sword, “We must get to the gates!”

Muttering a curse beneath her breath, Hyperia reluctantly followed. _Maker, why can you not just give me a break…just once?!_

As they ran towards the gate, the town had gone from celebration to panic, voices crying out in confusion and fear.

“What’s going on? Are we under attack?”

“Maker save us!”

Cullen stood just inside the gates, which had been closed and sealed, directing his men. Cassandra skidded to a halt before him, confusion in her tone, “Cullen, what…?”

“Once scout reported in…a massive force, with the bulk just over the mountain”, he replied, gesturing to a sea of torches seen burning in the distance.

“Under whose banner?”, the delicate accent of Jospehine piped up as she too joined them.

“None”, Cullen snapped in reply, frustration evident in his voice.

Suddenly the gates shook, a burst of light filtering from beneath them. _Maker, how did they get here so soon?!_ Hyperia barely had time to think before a voice cried out from the other side…a voice that sounded strangely like a young boy’s.

“Please open! I can’t come in unless you open!”

She glanced back to the rest, brows furrowed, her own glance returned with looks of confusion and wariness. Heaving a deep breath she said, “Open the gates…but be ready in case this is some sort of trap.”

The soldiers complied, the gates swinging open to reveal a single Venatori soldier who took one step forward, gurgled, then collapsed. The source of the voice stood behind him, bloodied daggers in his hands. He indeed appeared as a young man, very slight in frame, clad in simple, worn, homespun clothes, a large hat with a floppy brim that obscured his face upon his head.

Hyperia cautiously approached him, Cullen trailing behind, sword drawn. The boy looked up to them, revealing large, round blue eyes, pale skin and choppy pale blonde hair. “My name is Cole. I’ve come to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you.” He trailed off for a brief instant before continuing, “But you already know that.”

“Do you know who they are? What they want?” Hyperia asked urgently, her eyes darting between the boy and the steadily approaching army.

“The Templars have come to kill you.”

Before he could continue, Cullen lunged forward angrily, “The Templars?! Is this the Order’s response to us siding with the mages?! Attacking blindly?!”

Cole backpedaled away from the Commander’s sudden movement, his round eyes even wider, then turned to Hyperia once more, “The Red Templars went to the Elder One. You know him? He knows you. You took his mages.”

For some reason, his words sent a chill down her spine…one that was amplified as he pointed towards a rocky outcropping, “There.”

She followed his gesture and gasped. A man stood there, looking down upon the town with smirking disdain, clad in Templar armor, but with the distinct glow of red lyrium pulsing through it. It was obvious that man was not the Elder One…but the creature that strode to stand beside him. He towered over the man on a spindly frame twice his size, his body appearing to be a stitched-together mass of skin, bone and red lyrium, his head and shoulders too large for his skeletal body.

From everything she had discovered during her sojourn to the future, she knew this Elder One held power beyond imagining. The prospect of facing him here and now…with barely an army and most of them far from being in prime condition right now…turned her blood to ice.

Beside her, she heard Cullen whisper in surprise, “Samson?”

“You know him?”

“The Templar…yes. He was in in Kirkwall.”

Cole murmured quietly, “He’s very angry that you took his mages.”

Hyperia could feel panic rising quickly in her chest. Turning to Cullen she pleaded, “Cullen….we need a plan…anything!”

Frowning, he seemed to ponder for a brief moment, “Haven is no fortress. If we are to survive this, we need to control the battle.” He took a deep breath and turned to the smattering of soldiers and mages arrayed at the gate, “Get out there and hit that force! Use everything you have! Mages, you have full sanction….those are Templars, they will not make this easy!” Sparing a quick glance to her, he offered a slight nod before calling out to the rest, “Inquisition! We are fighting for the Herald! For all of our lives! Drive them back!”

She flashed him a quick grin, “Well, I’m inspired now”, before turning towards Cassandra who ran to her side, accompanied by Varric and the Qunari mercenary, Iron Bull. She had yet to see him in action, but she remembered her old companion, Sten and knew the Qunari were a fierce race. And, by the easy way the horned merc handled the massive battleaxe he held, she had no doubts he would prove the same.

“Boss”, he gave her a nod of greeting, “The Seeker here thought I might like a swing at these assholes.” His lips spread in a toothy grin, his single eye crinkling in glee, “She was right. Glad to get the chance to finally see you in action.”

“Likewise”, Hyperia replied with a crooked smile. _Well, he’s definitely nothing like Sten in temperament_ , she thought, recalling how stoic he had been.

A cry went up from the trebuchet before them as a swarm of Red Templars began attacking the troops stationed there. With a roar that befitted his name, Iron Bull charged forward, the rest following his wake to fend off the Templars while the trebuchet crew prepped the siege engine to fire.

It seemed that there was no end to the bizarre Red Templar troops. This was the first any of them had heard of them, so their appearance was disturbing, to say the least. All were in various stages of lyrium infection: some with a distinct red glow about their eyes and pulsing veins of the same visible through what little exposed skin they had. Then, there were what could only be described as shambling creatures made almost entirely of the crystalline stuff. Hyperia felt her stomach churn at the thought that these had once been men, for now they were mindless, snarling creatures, with the Templar insignia literally burning upon their flesh.

Eventually, a lull came and the crew was able to fire. A brief, weary cheer arose as the payload struck true in the midst of the army. But if they had thought to rest, they were mistaken, for another soldier ran up, breathless. “The other trebuchet isn’t firing! I think they’re under attack!”

With a sigh, Hyperia gestured him to lead the way and they all took off after him. Unlike the first, this trebuchet had been completely overrun by Templars, the bodies of Inquisition soldiers scattered around it.

“If you can fight them off, I can get it ready to fire”, the soldier said with a faint tremor of fear in his voice.

Nodding, she led her small group into battle once more. Again, it seemed almost as though there were no end to the creatures, but even as they fought, she caught sight of the soldier desperately cranking the winch on the trebuchet. They formed a semi-circle to protect him and finally, the last Templar fell as he called out, “It’s ready! Firing!”

As one, they all paused in rapt attention as the stone flew over the battlefield and struck the side of the mountain, causing a massive avalanche that buried a large portion of the approaching army. Cheers rose up around her and she even couldn’t help but join in. But even as their cheers faded, another sound echoed through the air….a sound Hyperia had not heard in over ten years…a sound she never thought to hear again.

_Maker no….it can’t be…_ she thought even as her gaze lifted skyward towards the source: a dragon…that was diving straight for them.

“Everyone….RUN!”, she screamed even as the dragon’s roar enveloped them, a stream of crimson electric fire issuing from its maw. The trebuchet exploded into splinters, the soldier killed instantly in the blast, while the rest of them were lifted off their feet and slammed into the ground as the dragon soared overhead.

Even as she picked her aching body off the ground, the groans of the others echoing as they did the same, her mind was awhirl with confusion. _An archdemon?! It can’t be! I would have heard it! How…_

“We have to get back to Haven!” Cassandra yelled even as she started down the path towards the gates at a slightly-limping run.

Thankfully, the gates remained open, with Cullen frantically gesturing everyone within, “Come on! Through here! Hurry! Move it!” As they raced inside, he closed the doors behind them, releasing a weary sigh, “We need everyone to get to the Chantry! It’s the only building that might stand up against…that beast!”

Hyperia frowned, shaking her head, a panicked despair threatening, “But what then? We can’t…”

He fixed her with a stare that stopped her words in her throat, “We can’t think of that now. At this point, all we can do is make them work for it…while we try to figure out the rest.”

Nodding, she sighed, realizing with no small amount of irony, that a mere hour ago, she was planning to leave. _Now I have no choice…but to stay and probably die. At least it will be a better death than the Deep Roads._

Fighting their way through the knots of Templars who were now climbing over the walls and slipping in through gaps in their defenses, they managed to round up everyone they could find who had not already been killed or made it into the Chantry.

Surprisingly, it was Chancellor Roderick who, leaning heavily upon the boy Cole, was guiding everyone within, “Keep going! The Chantry…is your shelter!”

As they passed through the doors, he staggered, Cole settling him gently into a chair, “He tried to stop a Templar…the blade struck deep. He is going to die.” All of this was intoned in a simple, matter-of-fact way, as though the boy was describing his dinner.

“Such…a charming boy”, Roderick quipped in a voice tight with pain.

Cullen strode forward, his features showing weariness and despair, “Her—Hyperia, our position…is not good. That dragon stole away what little time we had bought.”

“I saw an archdemon once…in the Fade”, Cole murmured thoughtfully. “It looked like that.”

Exhausted and confused, Hyperia snapped, “And I’ve seen one in person…and killed it! That…it can’t be one. I would have heard it long before it ever appeared!”

The boy turned those wide pale blue eyes on her and whispered, “The Warden who is not a Warden, blind, yet free…”

She blinked at him in confusion even as Cullen interjected…apparently not having heard Cole’s quiet whisper, “I don’t care what it looks like…or what it is! It’s cut a path for the army! They’ll kill everyone here!”

Cole spoke again, louder, this time, “The Elder One doesn’t care about the village…he only wants the Herald.”

Hyperia felt her gut twist at his words, “Why? What does he want me for? Revenge?”

Cole shook his head, “I don’t know…he’s too loud to hear. He wants to kill you. No one else matters…he’ll crush them all just to get to you.”

She walked to a pillar to sag against it, her thoughts bouncing between despair and determination. _I have to…I can’t let everyone die because of me. But…I don’t…_

Cullen’s voice quietly intruded on her ruminations, “There’s honestly no way to make this survivable for any of us. But…if we could turn the last trebuchet…cause one last ‘slide to bury them…”

Glancing up, she met his gaze, the hopelessness in his eyes absolutely crushing her, “But…that would bury Haven as well.”

“We’re dying, but at least we can decide how”, a hint of determination broke through the despair, “Not many get that choice.”

She couldn’t help but glance away to hide a sob that gripped her chest. _You don’t even realize how true that is_ , she thought. _At your side, battling impossible odds…or alone in the Deep Roads, praying for a quick death…I’d much rather have the first._

Even as she recovered somewhat, jaw setting, Cole spoke up once more, “Chancellor Roderick wants to say something before he dies. To help.”

“There’s a path”, the Chancellor rasped feebly, “You wouldn’t know it if you hadn’t made the Summer Pilgrimage, as I have. She must have…” He trailed off, rising unsteadily to his feet to fix Hyperia with a gaze filled with hope and sadness, “She must have shown me…so I could tell you. If this simple memory can save us…then maybe this is more than mere accident…maybe _you_ are…more.”

Feeling a faint bloom of hope, she turned to Cullen, “Can we do it?”

That hope was not reflected in his eyes, however, “Possibly…if he shows us the way.”

She took a deep breath, her gaze turning to the Chantry doors, “I have to get his attention…make sure his dragon doesn’t go after you all as you make your escape. I’ll fire the trebuchet.” _Maker, I don’t want to die…but if this is the only way._

“But…” She almost thought she heard a quavering in his voice, “How will you…?”

“I won’t…” She whispered as she pushed open the doors, barely able to force herself to spare a glance back at his pain-stricken features before striding out into the night, trying not to feel regret for not telling him goodbye...or the feelings that were stirring within her. For she knew that, if she had, she would not have been able to make herself leave.


	14. Shattered Hopes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, everything must be torn down in order to be remade new again...  
> Haven falls to Corypheus and the Red Templars. Hyperia is believed dead, and the Inquisition begins to unravel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of "In Your Heart Will Burn". Yes, this is another beast of a chapter. And they're not even in Skyhold yet! I'd planned to get them there at the end of this one, but woke up this morning with a little head-canon fluff idea that I want to slide into the next chapter before they start off on their journey.  
> Decided on some POV switching for the purpose of Increased ANGST...ahem. Heart-broken Cullen is heart-breaking...and am I going to be able to keep this slloooww burn going as long as I need to? Let's hope so! I have plans...lots of them...angsty and sweet...*rubs hands together and cackles* It should be worth the wait!
> 
> Enjoy! Comments and kudos give me joy!

Cullen stood mutely, watching her departing form...perhaps for the last time…a million thoughts running through his mind. A thousand things he wanted to say, but would now never have the chance.

Cassandra interrupted his thoughts, a determined set to her jaw, “I will do what I can to ensure she gets through this…if it’s possible.”

Before he could reply, the Qunari mercenary grunted, “Chance to take down a dragon? Count me in…”

“Maker go with you”, Cullen murmured quietly as the pair turned to walk out the door.

For a moment Varric glanced between them and the villagers who were now making their way towards the back door of the Chantry, led by Roderick. With a heavy sigh, he drew the crossbow he’d named “Bianca” from his back and muttered, “Damn it Seeker, you know you won’t last a minute out there without my help”, as he also trudged through the doors.

\-----------------------

It had been slow-going, but the mass of refugees steadily made their way towards the treeline of the mountain against which the village was built. From below, the sounds of battle echoed and Cullen had to keep from glancing back every few seconds. _If there’s still fighting, then she’s…they’re…still alive_ , he kept repeating to himself.

Occasionally, they could glimpse between the trees, the lone trebuchet standing as the last defense against the Templar horde. A spark of hope flared as he registered movement…first from around the trebuchet, and then the slow turn of the siege engine as it rotated towards its target.

“We have to move…hurry”, he entreated those around him, the word passed up through the ranks as the bare peak of the mountain grew closer.

Even as they finally reached the treeline, a horrible screech filled the air. It was almost as though every heart stopped in fear, eyes turning skyward, as the dragon soared straight towards the trebuchet, fire gushing from its open maw. Cullen felt a mix of relief and despair as the fire left the trebuchet untouched, _It wasn’t aiming for it…Maker, it was aiming for her._

Unable to tear his gaze away, he called out, “Does anyone have a farseer?!”

One of the scouts ran up and slapped it into his hand, his fingers shaking as he focused the device onto the now-blazing area below. Through the fire, he could make out her body, prone upon the ground, and for a second feared the worst, until she began to stir.

A motion drew his attention and he panned the farseer over in time to see the dragon corralling her three companions away from the trebuchet, buffeting them with its wings, the gusts tossing them like ragdolls down an icy slope where they disappeared from view. His heart clenched once more and he sent a silent prayer to the Maker that they managed to survive somehow. Quickly, he turned back to where she lay, apparently trying to regain her bearings, even as the twisted figure of the Elder One slowly strode towards her.

“Get up…get out of there…”, he found himself whispering as she slowly climbed to her feet. For a moment, it almost seemed as if she heard him, for she turned to back away. But she was not fast enough, for the dragon had returned, blocking her only exit with its immense form, shrieking a challenge.

It took every ounce of willpower he had not to run back down there as she stood helplessly pinned between the creatures. He heard a soft intake of breath, quickly stifled, from behind him as the Elder One drew forth some sort of orb. Turning, he spotted the elven apostate, Solas, watching the events below transpire through an intent gaze. He only then noticed that everyone around him stood in mute silence, transfixed by what they could barely see occurring below.

“Is she…?” Leliana asked quietly.

It took an act of effort for Cullen to reply, “No…but…it’s not good.”

The quiet echo of a cry snapped his attention back to the village. He felt his stomach twist as he found her once again through the farseer, doubled over in pain as her mark flared, shot through with a sickly red glow. He could not make out the words, but it was obvious that the Elder One was displeased, as he reached down to snatch her up. She dangled, helplessly, before him as he snarled in her face before throwing her bodily towards the trebuchet with an impact that made his own bones ache in sympathy.

She remained conscious, however. For a moment, it almost seemed as though she glanced directly at him…and he realized…

“The signal…quickly! Send the signal!”, he called out even as the mage Dorian sent up a flare of magic that trailed through the air with a soft whistle.

Cullen didn’t even have to raise the farseeker to know that she had seen it. Even from this distance, he could see the motion of the trebuchet as it flung its payload towards the mountain. _You did it…now get out of there…run…_

He snapped the farseer up once more, just in time to see her doing just that. But the avalanche…it was too close…too fast. _Oh Maker…there’s nowhere to go…_ , he thought in despair even as a wave of white blotted out her form.

He didn’t even realize that he’d sunken to his knees until he felt a hand upon his shoulder, the farseer slipped from fingers gone numb. Leliana’s distinct lilt whispered softly in a reluctant tone, “She’s…?”

“Yes”, he managed to scrape out, jaw set as he fought back the wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. Though his grief remained silent, he could hear the choked sobs and disbelieving whispers of those around him.

“It can’t be…”

“She’s really gone?”

“Oh Maker, why?”

“We need to keep moving”, Solas interjected into their sorrow. “Corypheus and his dragon will not stay gone for long.”

Blinking in confusion as he rose to his feet, Cullen tossed a faintly-annoyed glare at the elf, “’Corypheus’?”

“Yes, that is the name of the Elder One.” Noting the confused looks around him, he merely shrugged, “I have better hearing than most humans.”

“What else did you…?” Leliana began only to have him cut her off with a gesture, “That is a discussion for another time…once we have found shelter.”

The former Orlesian bard merely fixed him with a suspicious glare before nodding, “You are right. We must keep moving. But we will have that conversation…soon.”

“Of course”, he replied nonchalantly before turning to hike up the mountain, the rest of them slowly falling in behind him.

\----------------------------

_If I’m dead, why does everything hurt so much?_

Hyperia felt as though she had been thrown against a wall…several times…fought an army, and faced off with a dragon. _Probably because that’s exactly what happened…_

Part of her didn’t want to move for fear of her body introducing new pain, but another part told her that she needed to get out of here…wherever “here” was…to try and find the others.

Slowly opening her eyes…one of the few things that didn’t hurt right now…she tried to focus through the darkness on her surroundings.

 _Last thing I remember was the avalanche…running…falling. Looks like some sort of tunnels._ She climbed gingerly to her feet, a gasp of pain echoing through the stone halls as it was wrenched from between her teeth. _Maker…so cold…don’t know if I can…_

She tried to shake off the weariness and despondency that threatened to overwhelm her, and managed to conjure a small flame in the palm of her hand. It provided warmth and light, but she knew she was in no shape to maintain it for long. Every potion she had carried had been smashed into uselessness…whether from the dragon’s initial attack, Corypheus slamming her into the trebuchet, or her fall here. Even now, she could hear her boots crunching on their shattered remains. And her staff was gone…also broken in the attack.

Carefully, she began to pick her way down the tunnel. It seemed to go on endlessly and she began to despair of never escaping until a faint light shone from ahead, the whistle of wind echoing from that direction. However, if she thought she was home free, that hope was immediately dashed. Night had fallen and, with it, a howling blizzard that tore at her clothes and made visibility almost impossible.

 _Oh Maker…how I am supposed to find them in this?_ Even as she had the thought, she caught sight of the glow of fire high upon a ridge. It was large enough to be from an encampment. _But whose? Ours or the Templars?_ At this point, it really didn’t matter. She couldn’t just stand here and wonder. Taking a deep breath, she used another small bit of magic to send a bit of warmth coursing through her as she made her way through the snow towards the distant light.

\--------------------------

“You’re going to wear a hole in the mountain if you don’t stop pacing, Tomal”, a voice called down to the restless scout. Perched upon a rocky outcropping overlooking the Inquisition’s makeshift camp, the source of the voice, a second scout, smirked in amusement.

“I’m cold, Derrik. Aren’t you cold up there on that rock?”, the scout named Tomal replied irritably, rubbing his gloved hands over his arms as he continued pacing in the snow.

Derrik merely shrugged, “I grew up in the Frostbacks. This isn’t that bad. It’s not even winter yet.”

Well, that’s encouraging”, Tomal replied sarcastically.

“Shh!” Derrik suddenly hissed, gesturing his compatriot to be silent, even as he squinted into the darkness.

“What is it?” Tomal whispered. He silently prayed it was more stragglers from Haven and not the Templars. He doubted anyone would have dared to brave the blizzard, though.  _Well, aside from Lady Cassandra, that big Qunari merc, and the dwarf, anyway. And even those three, as tough as they are, looked like they'd been chewed up and spit out a few times when they came staggering in._

Pulling out the farseer, Derrik placed it to his eye, then gasped. “It can’t be…” Turning back to his partner, he frantically called out, “Go! Tell the others! It’s her!”

Eyes wide, the second scout didn’t even wait for another word, but plowed down the mountain into the valley encampment as fast as his legs would take him…the cold suddenly forgotten.

\--------------------

When the cry had gone out that Hyperia had been sighted, a wave of excitement flowed over the camp and felt as though its entirety slammed itself straight into Cullen’s chest. He couldn’t even think, only act…his feet taking him up the steep slope towards where the scout had gestured on sheer blind instinct. He barely noticed that Cassandra had fallen into step behind him, along with one of the scouts.

The second scout joined them just as she staggered over the rise, falling weakly to her knees as soon as she caught sight of their approach.

“Oh, thank the Maker you’re…” Cassandra began even as Cullen saw Hyperia’s eyes roll back in her head. Lunging forward, he managed to catch her just in time before she collapsed onto the snowy ground. She was cold…so cold…he could feel her shivering even through her unconsciousness. Without a second thought, he pulled off the furred overcoat he normally wore and wrapped her in it before gathering her into his arms.

Even as he rose to his feet, Cassandra was already barking orders to the scouts, “Go, alert the healer! And make sure there’s a fire going! We’ll need lots of blankets!”

Quickly, yet carefully, they made their way back down to camp where dozens of curious eyes watched in awe. The healer, Adan, shouldered his way through them, “Make room! Place her near the fire. We’ll need to get her out of those wet clothes and find plenty of warm blankets.”

Before Cullen could act, Dorian’s voice called out, “I realize that could be more…fun…for some.” Cullen scowled as he didn’t miss the sly wink Dorian tossed him before continuing, “I have a quicker way. Take her to one of the cots over there.”

Cullen glanced to Adan, who merely shrugged in reply, before carrying her over to one of the cots in the healer’s tent and gently laying her down. The Tevinter mage eyed her for a moment before gesturing him over. “Give me a hand here…I need to prop her up for but a moment.”

Following his lead, Cullen guided her limp form up to a sitting position while Dorian carefully removed his overcoat from her. “You can have this back”, he said passing it to Cullen after he’d lain her back down. “I wouldn’t want it to catch fire.”

“What?!” Cullen exclaimed as he shouldered the coat back on.

Dorian merely chuckled, “Trust me…” He took a deep breath and rubbed his hands together, a faint scintillating glow of orange and gold forming around them. The mage then swept his hands over her body, the glow spreading to envelop her.

As Cullen watched, steam began rising from her clothes and the bluish tint that had suffused her skin began to slowly fade in favor of a slightly more pinkish tone. Dorian maintained the spell for a few seconds longer before dissipating it with a gesture.

“There…don’t want to turn her into a desiccated husk. That wouldn’t do at all.” Glancing to Adan who had been hovering curiously nearby, Dorian addressed him, “She’s warm now, at least. I leave the rest in your capable hands.”

“About time someone noticed”, the surly healer replied, “Now shoo!” He flapped his hands at Cullen and Dorian, the latter steering the former from the tent.

“Let the man do his thing”, Dorian said with a friendly pat on Cullen’s shoulder, “She’ll be fine.”

The blonde-haired Commander eyed him a moment, then nodded gratefully before sinking onto a bench in front of the fire, feeling more exhausted, yet relieved, than he could ever remember.

 _She’ll be fine…_ Closing his eyes, he whispered a quiet prayer of thanks to the Maker, followed by a silent entreaty. _Blessed Andraste, please do not let it have been in vain…that she did not survive that ordeal only to die with us out here._

\----------------------------

_Pretender, you toy with forces beyond your ken…no more…_

_You interrupted a ritual years in the making and, instead of dying, you stole its purpose…_

_I will not suffer even an unknowing rival…you must die…_

_Pain…darkness…cold...voices…_

“What would you have me tell them? This isn’t what we asked them to do!”

“We cannot simply ignore this! We must find a way!”

“And who put you in charge! We need a consensus or we have nothing!”

She slowly stirred to wakefulness, recognizing the raised voices as her eyes fluttered open.

“Shh…you need rest”, another, less familiar, voice whispered from her side. Turning, she focused on the face of Mother Giselle who smiled down at her gently.

“Please, we must use reason!” Turning her attention outside the tent, Hyperia was surprised to see Josephine actually yelling, her hands gesturing animatedly, as she argued with Cullen, Leliana, and Cassandra. “Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we’re hobbled!”

“That can’t come from nowhere!” Cullen interjected.

“She didn’t say it could!” There was an almost petulance to Leliana’s tone as she leapt to the Antivan diplomat’s defense.

“Enough!” Cassandra shouted over the din, “This is getting us nowhere!”

“Well, we’re agreed on that much”, Cullen grumbled sullenly before striding away from the group in obvious irritation.

“Maker’s breath…they’re acting like a bunch of children”, Hyperia muttered.

Mother Giselle smiled wryly, “They have that luxury, thanks to you. The enemy could not follow and, with time to doubt, they turn to blame. Infighting can cause just as much damage as Corypheus himself.”

“Do we know where he is?”, she asked, cautiously rising to one elbow. It was a surprising, yet welcome, feeling to not be in pain for once.

The Revered Mother shrugged, “We do not even know where _we_ are. Perhaps that’s why he has not found us. Or perhaps he girds for another attack…or you are believed dead…we have no way of knowing. We can only know the effect he is having on us right now.”

Sighing, she pushed herself upright, “If they’re planning something, then I should be there.”

“No”, Mother Giselle replied, “Another heated voice will not help, even yours.” She chuckled with faint irony, “Probably especially yours.”

At Hyperia’s puzzled look, she continued, “Our leaders struggle because of what we witnessed. We saw our defender…our Herald of Andraste…our hero…stand and fall. And now…we have seen her return. The more the enemy is behind us…the more we talk…the more miraculous your actions become. It is difficult, yes? To wonder at what we have perhaps been called to endure? What we must believe?”

Hyperia shook her head in disbelief, “But…you sound as though people believe…I came back from the dead. That isn’t what happened at all. I barely escaped…but I didn’t die.”

“Of course not…we know in our minds that is not possible, but sometimes…people see what they want to…what they _need_ to see. The Maker works both in the moment and how it is remembered.”

“Corypheus claimed to have seen the Black City…that the throne of the Maker was empty”, Hyperia sighed, the implication of the creature’s words hitting her hard. Implications that Mother Gisselle gave voice to.

“That would make him one of the Magisters who assaulted the Golden City…who are responsible for the darkspawn. It would make him one of the first darkspawn. Would it not make sense for Andraste to choose a Grey Warden…one of the most exalted ones in recent history…to face him?”

“But”, Hyperia shook her head, barely able to speak the one most disturbing aspect of the whole situation, “if that’s the case, why can’t I sense him? Or his archdemon? I should have been able to feel their presence long before they ever showed on the field!”

The Revered Mother shrugged helplessly, “That, I do not know. Perhaps he has some way to mask it. Or your mark is interfering with it.”

Rising with a frustrated huff, Hyperia growled irritably, “Well if the Maker or Andraste wanted a Grey Warden to take down this monster, then maybe they should have made sure that I could actually use what powers I needed to do so!”

She could almost feel Mother Gisselle’s disappointed frown at her back as she ambled out of the tent. Their argument having dissipated for the moment, her advisors had scattered to their own separate corners. Leliana and Josephine both curled up wearily near the fire, Cassandra staring at a map spread out before her…though it was obvious she was not actually seeing it, and Cullen pacing restlessly between the tents, attempting to rub away a headache between his eyes.

_Everything’s falling apart, stranded out here as we are. We might as well have let Corypheus and his army kill us._

Even as those despondent thoughts whispered at her mind, another voice from behind her drowned them out as it was lifted in song…

_Shadows fall…and hope has fled…_

She turned to see Mother Gisselle slowly walking towards her, the elderly priestess singing out the familiar hymn.

_Steel your heart….the dawn will come…_

_The night is long…and the path is dark…_

The Revered Mother walked past her and Hyperia’s gaze was drawn to the rest of the camp who had fallen into a hushed, rapt silence.

_Look to the sky…for one day soon…the dawn will come._

_The shepherd’s lost and his home is far…_

A smile tugged at Hyperia’s lips as she heard Leliana’s dulcet voice raised to join in. _It has been far too long since I’ve heard her sing. I’d almost forgotten how beautiful her voice is._

_Keep to the stars…the dawn will come._

More of the camp were now joining in, their voices rising in a harmonious chorus.

_The night is long…and the path is dark…_

One voice rose for a moment above the rest and Hyperia started in surprise to see Cullen, eyes closed, joining his voice to the rest.

 _I never knew he could sing like that._ For a moment, she regretted that she had avoided Chantry services back at the Circle.

_Look to the sky…for one day soon…the dawn will come…_

The entire camp had joined in song, forming a small crowd outside her tent. Some with eyes lifted in devotion towards her.

_Bare your blade and raise it high…_

A few sank to their knees before her and she couldn’t help but step back, eyes wide with shock. _Oh maker no….what are they...? They can't. I don’t want this._ Still, they continued singing, even more bowing their heads, undaunted by her reaction.

_Stand your ground…the dawn will come…_

_The night is long and the path is dark…_

_Look to the sky…the dawn will come…_

As the last notes faded, Mother Gisselle turned to her with a faint smile, “The Maker sometimes challenges us…so that we may rise to the challenge and become greater than what we think we are.”

As she walked away, leaving Hyperia to mull upon her words, the elven apostate Solas, sidled up beside her, “A word…” he stated simply before walking away, leaving her to follow curiously in his wake.

He paused near the outer perimeter of the camp and ignited a small orb of blue-white fire in his palm that cast stark shadows across his angular features. “We may have a problem”, he said tersely, his gaze fixed on the distance.

“Aside from being stranded out here in the cold?”, she quipped, attempting to keep the annoyance from her voice.

“The orb Corypheus used…it is elven.” Turning, he fixed her with a thoughtful scowl, “It is a foci…once used to channel ancient magicks. It is what he, no doubt, used to open the Breach…and what caused the explosion at the Conclave. How he survived it…I do not know.”

“The fact that you actually know something about it and what it does…that seems like an advantage, not a problem.”

“It is a problem if it is used to cast blame upon the elven people…now that you are the blessed Herald of Andraste, people will look to someone new as a scapegoat. The elves have always been burdened with that role on too many occasions”, his voice became harsh with bitterness.

“I am quite aware of that, but I trust…and I hope that you would too…our own people not to fall into that sort of thinking. This is not the sort of information we’d share lightly.” She sighed, her gaze sweeping over the mountains surrounding them, “Besides, lost out here, it’s rather a moot point anyway.”

They stood in silence for a long moment before he spoke, “In that regard, I believe I can help. I have taken some time to scout the area through the Fade. In the morning, you will lead them north.”

“What’s north?”, she asked warily.

“A place where the Inquisition can build…and regrow”, a faint smile tugged at his lips, giving him the impression in the flickering magical light of a mischievous imp. Noting her skeptical gaze, he turned to her, “I have trusted you with what I know…now, it is your turn to trust me.”

Heaving a weary sigh, she nodded, “Very well. Anything’s better than just sitting around here.” As she walked away, she couldn’t help but wonder what other secrets he was hiding…


	15. Castles in the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition must make their way through the Frostback Mountains towards a mysterious destination known only by Solas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lengthy delay in getting this out. Between being away from my PC for a week on vacation, and just having some serious writer's block, this chapter did not come easily. Well, the first part (breakfast with Hyperia and crew) did...it was just a matter of getting everyone off their collective butts to get to Skyhold that gave me fits.  
> I am so happy to finally get them there though, because that's where the fun really begins!

The smell of frying meat awoke Hyperia the next morning. As she rolled off of the cot, her stomach rumbled loudly. When was the last time she ate? She could barely remember with all the chaos of the past day.

The rest of the camp was just starting to stir as she ambled towards the fire, where one of Haven’s refugees was deftly handling a large pan of sausages and apples over the flames.

“Maker, that smells heavenly”, she commented, causing the man to jump slightly, his eyes going wide as saucers.

“Herald! I apologize! I did not see you!” He stammered, obviously caught between the urge to show her some sort of appropriate respect, and to keep an eye on his cooking.

She waved him off with a chuckle, “It’s fine. So long as you’re planning on sharing some of that.”

“Of course!” He quickly fumbled for a rough piece of wood resting in a stack beside him and transferred two of the sausages and a generous portion of the apples onto it. “I’m so sorry we don’t have proper plates. There just wasn’t time…”

She took the food with a smile, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had to eat off of leaves before…or straight out of the pot with my hands.” A smile tugged at her lips as she recalled what a challenge it had been to do just that with Alistair’s rendition of “Ferelden Stew”. _“We just throw things in a pot and cook them until they’re a nice uniform grey color!”_ It had been surprisingly tasty, though extremely messy.

Plate in hand, she ambled through the camp, trying not to notice how the villagers now stared at her. _Like I’m Andraste Herself, walking among them._ If she had thought being a “hero” was bad, this was immensely more uncomfortable.

_I know Mother Giselle was trying to inspire and encourage us with that song, but it just…put me up on some sort of pedestal that I really don’t want to occupy. And Solas…this whole “be their guide, lead them to our new home” thing where he wants them all to believe that I am following some divine guidance to save us all. When it’s just that I’m putting my faith in some mysterious elf who I’m not even sure I trust._

Even as her thoughts began to drag her down, a deep voice called out to her, “Boooossss!” Glancing up, she saw the massive figure of Iron Bull lumbering towards her, a bloody bandage swathed across his chest, his arms spread wide in greeting.

“Bull! I’m glad to see yo—uummpph!” Any further words were smothered by the crushing hug he enveloped her in. “Buu….muh fooo!” She tried to exclaim against his broad chest.

“What?” The Qunari tilted his horned head as he released her.

“My food, Bull…I didn’t want to drop it.” She chuckled, the plate carefully balanced in her hand.

“Oohh…sorry, got a bit carried away”, he grinned sheepishly (quite a sight on the muscular Qunari). “Heard you staggered in last night, but the healer and that Vint mage said you needed rest, so I figured I’d wait to welcome you back.”

“Dorian…right”, she said, settling onto a patch of grassy ground just outside the camp perimeter, the makeshift plate balanced upon her legs. “So…what happened to you all? Last I remember, I told you to run, the dragon swooped in and that was it. I was afraid it had eaten you!”

“Naaahh”, Bull shrugged as he plopped down beside her, “It’ll take more than an ugly dragon to take out the Iron Bull. Thing tossed us around good though. Was like…flying, almost…until we hit the ground. Next thing I know, Cassandra’s shaking me, saying we have to go find Cullen and the rest. I wanted to go round two with that dragon, but she said it was gone….and…well, so were you.” He shrugged before flashing her a grin, “Glad to see that wasn’t the case.”

Hyperia returned his smile…as best she could around a mouthful of sausage, “You and me both, Bull.”

“Ah..there you are!” Hyperia glanced up to see Leliana approaching. “I was hoping you were already awake.”

“I think I’ve had enough sleep to last me for at least another week”, she chuckled.

“After all you’ve been through, I’d say you deserve it”, Leliana replied as she settled onto the grass beside her, then leaned in to give her a quick hug. “I’m glad that you are alright. When the avalanche came, we were all certain you were dead.”

“I came pretty close, but I suppose either the Maker or dumb luck was with me.”

Leliana chuckled, “Probably a bit of both, knowing you.” Her voice trailed off as she caught Bull’s eye…which was staring at them both rather intently. “What?”

He blinked, as though shaken out of a thought, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips, “Oh…nothing.”

“So this is where the party is!” Varric’s voice called out to the group as he ambled over to them, grinning.

“Varric!”, Hyperia smiled as he flopped down beside them. “So everyone made it out alright.” She paused for a moment, eyeing Bull, “Why are you the only one who got banged up?”

The Qunari shrugged, tossing her a crooked smile in return, “Guess I’m just the least aerodynamic.”

“I would have thought that would be Varric”, she said, canting a glance to the stocky dwarf.

Varric just grinned, “You forget, Herald, we dwarves are ‘Children of the Stone’. Getting tossed into a bunch of rocks is just a family reunion…and usually a lot less painful than the real thing.”

His quip sent the entire group into peals of laughter. It was such a marked difference from the sullen pall that had hung over the camp the night before. _I might not have liked what Mother Gisselle did…but I can’t say that it wasn’t effective._

Even as that thought entered her mind, a soft voice whispered at her side, “She lit the torch, now you carry it….to the castle in the sky.”

Hyperia turned to see the boy Cole crouched beside her, a faint hint of a smile visible beneath the huge floppy brim of his hat. “’Castle in the sky’? I hope that’s not literal.”

He canted his head for a moment, the smile fading for a moment, “Solas knows. He’s seen it. He knows it. But you will take us there.”

Leliana frowned, eyeing Cole suspiciously, “You’re saying there’s a castle out here…somewhere?” Before he could answer, she turned to Hyperia, “I’ve sent a few scouts and nearly all of my birds out. No one’s reported anything so far.”

Cole’s head lifted to the sky as he whispered, “Baron Plucky found something.”

“Wha--?” Even as Leliana’s head snapped to fix Cole with a look that should have killed him instantly, a faint “Caw!” carried on the cold morning wind.

With a ruffle of wings, a very large raven alighted upon Leliana’s outstretched arm, a scrap of tattered cloth held in its beak. Leliana studied the ragged linen as the bird dropped it in her hand and hopped obediently to her shoulder.

Hyperia feared to ask the question, but she knew she must, “What direction did you send him in?”

“North”, the spymaster replied. “There’s something there.”

“Then I guess we head north”, Hyperia replied with a sigh as she rose to her feet. It was good to know that they had a confirmation of their destination, but she still felt uneasy trusting Solas’ guidance.

“It seems I have arrived just in time!” Josephine’s cheerful lilt greeted them as she approached, a steaming kettle in one hand, an array of small cups carefully balanced in the other.

“Oh, bless you Josie!” Leliana exclaimed as the ambassador began pouring a deep brown liquid into the cups.

“Is that--?” Hyperia began, the familiar smell wafting through the cold air.

“Antivan kaffe! You have tried it before, yes? Lel told me that you all travelled with one of the Crows.” Josephine replied, passing one of the cups to her.

“Zevran, yes”, she said taking the cup gratefully and blowing upon the steaming liquid. “He introduced me to kaffe.”

“Among a few other things”, Leliana murmured under her breath, an impish glint in her grey-blue eyes.

Hyperia’s eyes went wide as her face flushed as bright red as her hair, “Lel! We don’t talk about that!”

“Ooh my! A scandal!” Josephine giggled girlishly.

“Did someone say something about a juicy scandal?” Varric piped up as Josephine handed him a cup.

“Maker’s breath…you people are awful”, Hyperia groaned, trying to cover her flushed face with her hand as she began to turn away from the crowd now gathered. She paused and fixed Leliana with a narrow-eyed glare, “If you breathe one word…I swear…Baron Plucky will become tonight’s dinner.” A burst of flame sprang to life in her other hand, and the bird on Leliana’s shoulder squawked and flapped defensively.

“Not a word….I promise”, Leliana smiled enigmatically as she calmed the bird with gentle strokes, then set out to aid in the packing up of the camp, leaving Hyperia to watch her with a suspicious eye for a moment before following suit.

Iron Bull nudged Varric as the two walked away, a grin spread over his broad features, “Redheads…uuunnff…”

“Tiny, those are two redheads you probably don’t want to mess with”, Varric replied with a chuckle.

Undaunted, the qunari rose to his feet, still grinning, “That’s what makes it even more fun to imagine.” Rolling his shoulders, he hitched a thumb to the masses of refugees, now in an almost-frenzied state of packing up the camp, “C’mon, let’s get this show on the road.”

\-----------------

A few days later…

Hyperia glanced back at the huddled masses trudging along the path, the creak of wagon wheels carrying through the frosty air. They looked like a migration of bears, with everyone bundled up as they were…the only exceptions being the few mages in the group who were no doubt using magic, as she was, to keep themselves warm.

Solas had forged briefly ahead, disappearing from view past a rocky ridge. _He’s the one leading us to…wherever…but everyone keeps treating me as though it’s all me. Maker, it’s like the Blight all over again. I had no idea what I was doing then…but Alistair kept pushing me into being the leader. Now, there’s Cassandra, Leliana, Solas, Cullen….at least half a dozen people who are more suited to be called “leader” than me, but still they defer to me…again. Sweet Andraste, I hope Solas isn’t leading us in circles. I swear…_

She glanced up as the thought trailed off to see Solas perched upon the crest of the ridge he had climbed, the closest thing to a smile she had seen in a while lighting his angular features. As she drew up beside him, he gestured to the vista ahead and merely said, “Skyhold.”

Following his gesture, her eyes widened as she sucked in a gasp of awe. Nestled atop a nearby mountaintop was a castle rivaling the size of Redcliffe’s, with thick walls of dark stone and tattered banners in the same faded gold that Leliana’s raven had returned, fluttering in the wind. It was obviously abandoned by the state of disrepair…there were gaping holes in roofs and bits of walls were crumbling…but still in surprisingly-good condition for a structure that was literally out in the middle of nowhere.

“Blessed Andraste!”

The exclamation came from behind her in Cassandra’s distinctive Nevarran accent. “Please tell me that is real and not some delusional imagining brought on by all these days spent in the cold!”

“It is quite real, Seeker”, Solas’ quiet voice held a hint of amusement as he crouched upon the rock, his gaze also focused on the fortress in the distance.

“Castle that old, just has to be haunted”, Varric interjected, his breath coming in heavy puffs of mist as he crested the ridge.

Solas merely sighed, “I have sensed no hostile spirits inhabiting it.”

“Looks defensible enough”, Thomas mused quietly even as Cullen joined the group, his gaze sweeping over the fortress appraisingly.

“It will need repairs…but it should suffice, in time.”

“Well, what are we all standing around here gawping for?!” Bull roared as he strode past the group, “Let’s go check this place out!”


	16. Turning Points

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that the Inquisition has arrived at Skyhold, Hyperia must decide what to do. Her mission to cure the taint is calling her, but so is her duty to the Inquisition....and a certain blonde-haired Commander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [JaelleG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaelleG) for giving me a little boost of inspiration yesterday! Our discussion also reminded me that I need to make a note to all of my lovely readers that sometimes it will seem that I skip over events/conversations that should have some sort of relevance/importance to Hyperia's story. I do that sometimes to keep a chapter from getting too overburdened with information (and sometimes, I'm just lazy and forget). If it is something that is important to the story I **will** get around to it...even if it's through flashbacks, memories, etc.
> 
> Jaelle mentioned the Anora encounter in Redcliffe...which I did have a scene planned out, but just ended up leaving it out during the Redcliffe chapter itself (because it was driving me nuts). So, I decided to include it here...and it ended up unfurling a few more ideas to go along with it. 
> 
> If there is a scene/conversation that I haven't included that you miss, please let me know! I might have something planned already, or it might be something I just forgot about that would make a great chapter...or kicking-off point for one. I'm always happy to get outside inspiration!

_Three weeks ago…_

“Grand Enchanter Fiona, I must speak with you!”

“Of course, what—“

The sound of heavy boot steps echoing through the hallway of Redcliffe castle interrupted her reply as a contingent of soldiers dressed in the livery of Ferelden marched into the hall to take their places in perfect order flanking the group.

“What the --?” Hyperia began even as the familiar form of the Ferelden queen, Anora swept into their midst.

Hyperia had never really liked the woman from the first day she had met her. Being the daughter of the traitorous Teryn Loghain did not help her cause, even if she hadn’t been an arrogant schemer all on her own.

_Had I known then what I do now, I would have pushed Alistair to be king. My own selfishness put her on the throne and for what? A marriage that barely lasted past the first night._

“Grand Enchanter Fiona!”, the queen’s voice rang out angrily through the hall. The anger quickly shifted to surprise as Anora’s gaze fell upon Hyperia, “Warden-Commander Amell? What are you doing here?!”

Hyperia threw her a crooked smirk, “You seem to be woefully uninformed, your majesty. I haven’t been the Warden-Commander for years. Now it’s ‘Herald of Andraste’”, as she spoke she mockingly lifted her marked hand, wiggling her fingers, “Do try to keep up.”

She could hear Cassandra emit a tired groan behind her and fought back a smile. It probably wasn’t a good idea to antagonize the Queen of Ferelden, but Hyperia knew that Anora was fully aware that it had been the word of the then-newly-appointed “Hero of Ferelden” who had put her on the throne.

_I could have had her imprisoned, even executed…even though I know Eamon would have pushed for her to marry Alistair and…ugh…I couldn’t do that to him. Even if I’d known things were going to fall apart between us._

Anora did not reply, but only shot her an irritated glare before turning her attention back to Fiona, “When I granted your mages sanctuary, I thought it was understood they would not be forced from their homes!”

“That was never our intent—“, Fiona began.

“I don’t care about your intentions!” Anora interrupted.  “They ceased to matter when my people were threatened. As of this day, your claim of sanctuary is rescinded. You and your mages will leave Ferelden immediately.”

“But, where—? “ The desperation in the elven Grand Enchanter’s voice was palpable.

“Enough!” Hyperia stepped forward, fixing Anora with a glare before turning to Fiona, “You will come with us…be a part of the Inquisition, as we planned. Besides…I have a few questions for you.”

\---------------------------

_Now…_

Those questions had eventually been answered…but not in the way Hyperia had hoped.

_“I am sorry, but I do not know how I was cured. No one does…and believe me, the Wardens tried. I wish I had answers for you, but I don’t.”_

Hyperia had locked herself in the small tower room she had claimed in Skyhold and cried for hours in despair. Fiona had been the reason she had gone to the Conclave in the first place. She had been her last resort to discovering a way to end the taint, being the only Grey Warden known who had actually shed its curse and lived to tell of it. And now those hopes had been dashed.

_“A Warden who is not a Warden…blinded, yet free.”_

Cole’s words back in Haven still haunted her. Especially considering that she indeed felt “blinded” once she discovered she could not sense neither Corypheus nor his archdemon.

_I should be relieved…this could mean that I’m cured. But, this wasn’t just about me…but for people like Anders, Nathaniel, Velanna, who were given no real choice in joining the Wardens. And for Alistair…we’re no longer together, but I can’t bear the thought of losing him to the Calling._

_Pale brown eyes staring lifelessly, lips that she kissed countless times no longer whispering something silly to make her laugh, features ravaged by the rot of taint as his body is torn apart by dozens of clawed hands._

She shook her head to try and clear it of the image that had haunted her for years. It had been ten years since the Blight…more since his Joining. How much longer did he have until the Calling claimed him? How much longer did she have to try to find something that could save him?

_I have to get out of here. I did what they wanted…they don’t need me anymore._

She glanced around the tiny room almost as though seeing it for the first time. It was sparse, but they had managed to salvage some usable furniture from the abandoned fortress and, combined with the blankets and linens brought from Haven, she and a few others were able to sleep easy on a real bed. Many others opted to sleep in tents until more of the debris and rubble could be cleared out of the many rooms of the castle.

Skyhold had proven to be almost perfect for their needs. For being perched atop a snowy mountaintop, it remained surprisingly temperate…even to the point where many types of foliage flourished within its walls. There were various theories about how this was possible…from hot springs, to magic, to volcanic activity. If Solas knew, he was keeping his counsel about it.

Stepping into the courtyard, she was surrounded by the noise and bustle of the people of the Inquisition going about the work of making the castle their new base of operations. The healers had set up a makeshift triage for all of the wounded who had made the arduous journey from Haven in one corner.

As she watched, the familiar hooded figure of Leliana took a slip of paper from one of the healers and strode to where Cullen was addressing a few of the scouts from behind a roughly-assembled table littered with papers. Curious, Hyperia loitered nearby as the spymaster passed the note to Cullen who skimmed over it and released a weary sigh.

“I’m sorry.”

“As am I”, Leliana replied, looking as dejected as Hyperia had ever seen her friend in all the years she had known her. Turning away, her eyes met Hyperia’s and she could see that there was a determination mixed with the sadness and disappointment written upon the former bard’s face.

“The list of the dead”, Leliana stated simply as she approached Hyperia and steered her towards a shadowed niche beneath the winding stairs leading to the main hall.

“How many?”

Leliana heaved a weary sigh, “Too many. And it is my fault.”

“Your fault?” Hyperia shook her head in confusion, “The last I looked, you were not the one commanding the archdemon nor leading the armies of blighted Templars.”

“No…but when one of my scouts went missing, I pulled the rest back in…to be safe.” Hyperia could hear leather creaking as the spymaster balled her gloved hands into tight fists, “I was a fool. If I had left them out there, we might have had more warning…a better idea of their numbers…”

“Or they might have been killed as well and we’d not only have been surprised by the attack, but short several seasoned scouts as well.”

“We don’t know that!” Leliana exclaimed in obvious frustration. “They all know that they might be called on to lay down their lives for the Inquisition at any time. I was too soft…too concerned for them. I can’t let sentimentality get in the way again.”

Hyperia frowned, the stoic callousness of her words sent a chill down her spine because they reminded her all too well of the future Leliana, driven to an unpitying state by the circumstances of war.

“Lel…no…your people are not just numbers, not just pawns on a board. They are people who need a leader who they know will care about them, as well as the mission.”

“But…I can’t afford to be soft-hearted! Not now...not after what happened at Haven!” She shook her head, confusion writ upon her face, “You were willing to give your life for us. How can I ask any less from my people?”

“I—“ Hyperia hesitated, brows furrowed in thought, “I was willing because I made the choice…the only choice that would have given you all a chance. Trust me, I didn’t want to make that choice. I didn’t even want to be there at all. I was planning on leaving in the morning.”

Leliana eyed her for a long moment, then nodded, “Well, I am glad you didn’t…we are all glad you didn’t.” The seriousness left her face for a brief moment, as she leaned in with an impish gleam in her eye, “Some more than others.”

“What are you on about, Lel?”, she replied, one brow raised curiously at her friend.

“Maker, but you are so oblivious sometimes!” Amusement and frustration mingled in her voice as she cut her glance quickly over to a corner of the courtyard.

Following her gaze, Hyperia felt a flush rise up her neck. “Lel, no…that’s ridiculous!”

“Is it?” Leliana shrugged, yet the playful curve of her lips contradicted her feigned indifference. “Go talk to him. Then tell me I’m wrong.”

Hyperia’s gut was a mess of knotted anxiety and anticipation. _It can’t be…but what if he does still have feelings for me? Oh Maker…I don’t even know what I feel anymore. It’s been so damn long and so much has happened. I just…_

Her brain would have run itself around in circles for hours, like a dog chasing its tail if Leliana hadn’t given her a sharp nudge, “Stop talking yourself out of it and just go!”

“Andraste’s flaming--, you’re impossible! Fine!” Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and strode over to where Cullen was addressing a pair of scouts.

“I need an update on the armory as soon as possible.” When the scout hesitated, distracted by her approach, he leaned right into the man’s face and barked, “Now!” The scout jumped, eyes wide, and saluted, scurrying off with a mumbled, “Yessir!”

Hyperia fought back a smile as she watched the exchange. _Maker, but he’s so…different from back at the Circle. I still remember the awkward, stammering young Templar who was too shy to barely say two words to me…or anyone else. Now he’s commanding troops like an experienced general. And I’m the shy, awkward one who has no idea what to say. Funny what ten years will do._

Even as these thoughts raced through her head, he turned to address her, still the military commander, “We set up in Haven as best we could, but nothing could have prepared us for an archdemon…or whatever that thing was.” He paused to rub the back of his neck with a faint wince.

“Are you alright?” She had noticed that ever since she had first joined the Inquisition, he had looked rather…ragged around the edges more times than not. _The stress of this position, maybe?_

He frowned, glancing away for a moment, “It’s nothing. Just a headache.” As soon as it had appeared, that brief moment of weakness was replaced once more by concentration as his gaze fixed upon the notes and blueprints scattered on the table. “If Corypheus strikes again, we can’t withdraw. We’ve established guard rotations and repairs are underway. Everything should be in place within the week.”

He paused, but before she could reply, he turned to fix her with a look of such intensity, it took her by surprise, “We will not run from here…not again.”

She felt a heat rise up her neck as she glanced away, “It was…Haven was a close thing. I’m glad that you…were able to get most everyone out.” She almost said “…you made it out”, but stopped herself. _Why? If what Lel said was true? But if it wasn’t, then I make an idiot out of myself pining for someone who gave up on me almost a decade ago._

“As am I.”

She missed the smile that began to tug his lips as she turned away, feeling the sudden need to get away before she really did make a fool of herself. But then, his hand flashed out to catch her wrist, stopping her in mid-step.

Surprised, she glanced back to see him looking at her again with that intense stare, a hint of…something else in his eyes, “When you stayed behind, I--. You could have—“. Even as she met his gaze, he released her wrist, his voice dropping slightly, but not losing an ounce of its intensity, “I will not allow that again. You have my word.”

Before she could reply, another scout ran up breathless, and he turned his attentions to him, leaving her to walk away, her feelings more in turmoil than ever.

_No, I can’t…even if he does care for me. I have to leave…this is so much more important than trying to rekindle some long-ago infatuation. If I hadn’t been so damn selfish about my feelings for Alistair, I wouldn’t even be here. I can’t let that happen again…_

Before her thoughts could spiral out of control once more, she glanced up to see Cassandra striding across the courtyard towards her, a look of determination on her sharp features. As she caught Hyperia’s eye, a smile broke through slightly, “Good morning, Lady Amell.”

_At least she’s not calling me “Herald” anymore. Hopefully that’s a sign that this nonsense is over and I can be free of it._

Before Hyperia could respond, Cassandra continued, her gaze sweeping over the courtyard, “We are starting to get pilgrims…refugees from all over Thedas. People who want to help in the fight against Corypheus…or those fleeing his armies and the rift demons.” As she spoke, she began walking, Hyperia following silently beside her. “Of course, if word has reached these people, that means it has also reached the Elder One. We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here….but this has still spiraled far beyond the mere Mage-Templar war we thought it would be. But at least we now know how you stood against Corypheus…what drew him to you.”

Hyperia stopped halfway up the stairs to the main hall, eyeing her warily, “Yes, it was this”, she lifted her hand, the mark still glowing faintly upon her palm, “He wanted it back…and since he couldn’t get it, now he wants to kill me. He said it himself….he ‘won’t suffer even an unknowing rival to live’.”

“Yes, you are actually correct…but in more ways than you realize.” As Cassandra spoke, she continued up the stairs, “It is as he said…you are his rival. It was your decisions that healed the Breach and you who enabled us to escape Haven by standing up to him.”

As they crested the stairs, Hyperia’s gaze fell upon Leliana who stood upon the landing, holding an ornately-carved staff in her hands. Hyperia frowned, recalling that her own staff had been broken in the battle with Corypheus. _What are they playing at here?_ Even as she asked it of herself, the answer came to her…and was echoed by Cassandra.

“The Inquisition needs a leader now…more than ever. And there is no one more suited than the one who has already been leading it: you.”

Hyperia felt her gut twist as she stepped back from them both, shaking her head, “No…I can’t. As you said, I healed the Breach, I nearly gave my life at Haven! I’ve done more than enough already! I have my own priorities to deal with.”

As she began to turn away, she noticed that a crowd had gathered below in the courtyard, all watching the exchange with anticipation.

“Do you think that you are the only one who has sacrificed? We have been fighting…and bleeding for this while you were wandering Thedas alone with no care of how the world was falling apart around us!”

All too aware of the stares they were receiving, Hyperia lowered her voice, “And I was fighting the Blight before your Inquisition even existed! Can I not be the bleeding hero just once?!” Even as she said it, she realized how petulant she sounded and how unfair it was to Leliana who had been through the same battles she had during the Blight…and who now stood as silent as a statue.

“Fine…you can leave, if that’s truly what you wish”, Cassandra huffed, “But just because you do, doesn’t mean that Corypheus will stop hunting you. Without you, the Inquisition will cease to exist and you will be alone.”

Despite all of her years wandering in solitude, for some reason that word…”alone”…hit her harder than she thought it ever could. Once more she glanced down to the courtyard to see the faces of the entire Inquisition turned towards her in anticipation. Her gaze found Cullen almost immediately and she thought she noticed him give a small nod of encouragement when her eyes met his.

She quickly flicked her attention back to Cassandra, who seemed to be fighting back a smile, “This may not be what you want…but it is what you need…what we need…you have to know this.”

Heaving a tired sigh, she muttered, “Very well. It seems I have little choice.” Turning, she took the staff Leliana held out to her. “We do whatever it takes to stop Corypheus. Maker help us all…”

Turning to the crowd, Cassandra cried out, “Have our people been told?”

From below, Josephine’s distinct voice replied, “Yes…and soon, the world!”

“Commander, will they follow?”

With a knowing grin, Cullen turned towards the assembled crowd, “Inquisition…will you follow?”

A cheer rose up around him, “Will you fight? Will we triumph?” The cheering swelled until it filled the courtyard and echoed throughout the entirety of the fortress. A ringing of steel sang out over it all as he drew his blade and turned to raise it in salute to the trio above, “Your leader! Your Herald! Your Inquisitor!”

 _Maker’s breath, they planned this to a T. I couldn’t say no even if I wanted to now._ Something about it touched her, though. When she had been hailed in Denerim as the Hero of Ferelden, it had all felt like empty pomp and ceremony. While this still had a flair for the theatrical, it seemed so much more….honest, intimate even. _Maybe it’s because it’s not just about what I’ve already done, but the potential of what I will do. This maybe is how things could have been during the Blight had Loghain not declared the Wardens outlaws and traitors. We could have rallied the people like this instead of going it alone without anyone realizing what we had done until it was all over._

As the cheering died down, Josephine and Cullen climbed the stairs to join them on the landing, and Hyperia was hit with a sudden burst of inspiration. Raising her voice to the crowd, she called out, “Inquisition! You have named me your leader…your Inquisitor…but we are all in this together! Not a single one of you is any less important to this than I or the people standing beside me! None of us will bring down Corypheus and his armies alone! Believe in that and in yourselves and we will defeat this monster!”

The roar that burst from the crowd could have reached Corypheus himself, wherever he might have been hiding. Suddenly feeling a swell of emotion growing in her chest, she quickly turned and strode into the main hall to hide the tears that she could feel forming.

As she stepped into the vast hall, her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness to take it in…its floor still littered with debris, a fallen chandelier of heavy iron resting on its side in the middle of the floor, and a throne-like chair occupying the dais at the far end. The footsteps of the others behind her echoed through the massive space.

“So it begins…” She heard Cullen murmur thoughtfully.

“Indeed”, Leliana replied, her voice rising slightly to address Hyperia as she attempted to regain her bearing, “Nice speech by the way.”

“I—thanks”, she said, clearing her throat of the lump that had formed in it, “I just…I don’t want to be the one standing up on a lone pedestal. It wasn’t right that I was named the ‘Hero of Ferelden’ when you and Alistair and the rest did just as much. I don’t want that to happen again here.”

“I understand…and I’m glad you decided to stay after all. We do need you.”

Hyperia bit her lip, thankful her back was turned so that they could not see the color that flushed her cheeks or the tears that kept trying to well up.

“So, what do we do now?” Ever-practical, Josephine piped up. “We know almost nothing about this Corypheus except that he wanted your mark.”

Hyperia sighed, “He claims to be one of the first darkspawn…one of the Magisters who tainted the Golden City.”

“But is he?” Cullen asked, “You said back in Haven that you couldn’t sense him or his archdemon…or whatever it was.”

She shook her head in frustration, turning to the assembled group, “I don’t know! If he’s a darkspawn and that was an archdemon, I should have sensed them long before they ever arrived. The fact that I can’t…does it mean that they’re not what they appear to be, or that I’ve somehow lost the ability to sense them?”

“Regardless of what he is, we at least know what he intends to do”, Leliana interjected. “You said that in the dark future you and Dorian visited, he had assassinated Empress Celene and raised a demon army.”

“So…since I’m guessing the Empress is still alive and well, and we have heard no reports of demon armies rampaging through Thedas, we can assume that’s next on his agenda?”

“Indeed…we know the ‘what’, we just need to figure out the ‘how’.” Leliana sighed heavily, “I just wish we knew more about what we were dealing with.”

From the doorway came a quiet cough, followed by the distinct gravelly tones of Varric, “I know someone who can help with that.” They turned as one to face him as he trudged through the debris, his eyes darting about warily, “She’s dealt with Corypheus before, so I sent a message to her. She’ll…be waiting on the battlements. Parading around might cause a fuss.” Tossing them a crooked smile, he just shrugged. “Just let me know when you want to meet her…Inquisitor.” Without another word, he turned and ambled back out of the hall.

Leliana exchanged a glance with Hyperia, “If that’s who I think it is…”

A smirk curled Hyperia’s lips, “Hawke would be my first guess.”

“And probably the correct one.” Heaving a sigh, she shook her head, “Cassandra is going to kill him.”


	17. The Hero and the Hawke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyperia finally meets her infamous cousin, Ysara Hawke...and things get a little awkward.

_Two weeks ago…_

“Maker’s breath, it’s about time you changed clothes!”

The exclamation came from a woman with short-cropped black hair, who was dressed in well-worn leather and slouched casually in a corner booth at some unnamed tavern in some equally unnamed town in northern Ferelden.

Her companion, a man of tanned skin and dark reddish-blonde hair, also dressed in non-descript brown leather reinforced with splint mail plating, slid into the seat opposite hers with a scowl.

“It just feels…wrong…I’m supposed to be—“, he began before she cut him off.

“’—representing the Grey Wardens the way they’re supposed to be and not what they are right now’. I know, I know…but you’re honestly not doing anything except making it that much easier for them to find you. You’re like this big blue-and-silver target that screams, ‘Here I am! Come get me!’. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to be able to stop in a place like this every now and again for a decent drink without having to look over my shoulder every five minutes.”

“I don’t know if I’d call what they serve here ‘decent drink’”, he remarked as he eyed the mug in front of him with suspicion.

“It’s only a hair better than what they served at the Hanged Man…and only because there was always the chance you actually would find a hair in your glass”, the woman replied, taking a tentative pull on the contents, nose wrinkling.

Alistair eyed her across the table, “I’d think you’d be used to much better stuff, being the Vicountess of Kirkwall and all.”

Ysara Hawke chuckled, “Of course…right now I should be imbibing on the finest Antivan wines while soaking in a marble tub with a servant massaging my feet. But, here I am, roaming the countryside with a renegade Warden instead.”

“Oh, you know you love it”, Alistair said teasingly.

Tossing him a crooked smile in return, she replied, “Of course I do. Nobility is boring…as I’m sure you well know, seeing as you gave up the chance to be King, after all.”

“And damned glad of it”, he said, taking a long drink of ale.

Suddenly a _tap-tap-tap_ sounded against the window beside them, the shadow of a rather large bird silhouetted against the frosted glass. Carefully cracking the window, Ysara admitted the raven that perched upon the sill, a message tube attached to one leg.

“Maker, but those things manage to find you everywhere!” Alistair exclaimed as Ysara carefully removed the message.

“I’m surprised Varric was able to get a raven out at all. I haven’t heard from him since he joined up with this ‘Inquisition’. Apparently Cassandra watches him like a hawk. Haha…’like a Hawke’…I’m hilari--”. Her voice trailed off as she skimmed over the note. It was in Varric’s handwriting, but messier…rushed…as though his hands were shaking, imparting a sense of urgency to match the words themselves.

_Haven destroyed. It’s Corypheus. Going north. Chuckles says something out there. Need to talk to you. Urgent. Find us…if don’t freeze to death first._

“Damnit, you were right”, she said as she passed the note to Alistair who frowned as he took in the note…and its implications.

“You know, times like this, I really hate being right”, he said with a sigh.

“Me too”, she tucked the message into her glove before taking a long swig of ale, “I need to go…find out what’s going on. If Corypheus is still alive…”

“I know”, Alistair replied quietly, reaching across the table to place his hand upon hers, “Can’t say I like it, but if he’s behind what’s happening to the Wardens…”

“And what’s happening to _you_ ”, she said, giving his hand a squeeze, “We need to find out. I know you want to come, but…”

He heaved a weary sigh, “If Corypheus is involved, he might try to control me. Besides, someone still needs to investigate those reports of red lyrium in Crestwood.”

“I’ll see what’s going on with Varric and this Inquisition, then meet you…in that old smuggler’s cave you mentioned?”, she said as she drained the last of the ale and began to rise to her feet.

“Sounds like a date”, he quipped, though she could see the worry in his eyes.

“You always take me to the most romantic places, Alistair”, she grinned as she leaned in to place a quick kiss on his forehead.

“Nothing but the best caves and hovels for you, my dear”, he quipped with a chuckle, “Do try to behave yourself.”

“I’ll try not to let anyone blow up the Chantry this time”, she smirked, ruffling his hair playfully, “You be careful though. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

\----------------------

_Now…_

Ysara paced restlessly within the small tower room, senses alert to every sound outside the thick wooden doors. Varric had supposedly let the Inquisitor know that she was here, so now it was just a matter of waiting. She tried to resist the urge to kick some of the scraps of wood littering the floor out of sheer boredom and frustration.

She had managed to slip into the fortress unseen, mingling with a group of refugees, and Varric had taken her quickly into a still-untouched part of Skyhold as to avoid the prying eyes of the few that might recognize her.

_As though it would actually matter. I think Varric’s more worried about his own skin than mine. He put up with a lot, trying to keep me secret from that Seeker, Cassandra and this Inquisition. And now, here I am, right under their noses, about to meet with their head Inquisitor. Lovely…_

The sound of footsteps approaching pulled her from her thoughts, followed by Varric’s husky voice murmuring, “She’s here.”

Taking a deep breath, Ysara opened the door, gaze scanning the battlements until she found Varric leaning against a nearby barrel, accompanied by a woman with shoulder-length auburn hair.

As she approached, Varric addressed tossed Ysara a grin, “Ysara Hawke, also known as the Champion of Kirkwall…meet the Inquisitor, Hyperia Amell.”

Ysara’s eyes went wide as the woman turned towards her and she matched the name with Alistair’s description of her, “You’re…the hero of Ferelden.”

Hyperia chuckled, “And your cousin as well, I do believe. It’s good to finally meet you.”

Ysara tossed a quick glare to Varric, “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

The dwarf shrugged, “I didn’t exactly have time to get into a lot of detail on my last note. And when I wrote the one before that, well, that was back before she tumbled out of the rift.”

 _Andraste’s flaming knickers, but this is going to be awkward_ , Ysara grumbled inwardly. Even though her relationship with Alistair was, so far, mostly platonic…and his marriage had been over years ago…she still couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. _Add that to the fact that I killed her friend…Maker…_

Hyperia must have noticed her inner turmoil for she offered a faint smile as she laid a hand on Ysara’s shoulder, “I know about Anders…and I know why you did it.” A look of pain crossed her face as she glanced away, “It was my fault he turned into what he did. If I hadn’t abandoned him in Amaranthine…”

“Now, Inquisitor…we already talked about that”, Varric interjected.

Hyperia shot him a sidelong glance, “That doesn’t make it any less true, Varric.”

“I think there’s enough blame to go around and then some”, Ysara sighed. “I wasn’t exactly supportive of him…or the mages.”

“Kind of hard to be when every time you turned around, they were turning to blood magic”, Varric grumbled before giving Ysara a nudge, “Enough of the past...I thought you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus. You and I did fight him, after all.”

Ysara shrugged, arms crossing as she leaned against the battlements, “According to you, he’s already had half a mountain dropped on him, so I’m not sure what else I can tell you.”

“Well, you did fight him…and survived, obviously”, Hyperia offered.

“Fought _and_ killed him”, Ysara replied testily…though it was obvious her ire was not directed to Hyperia, “And we didn’t just _think_ we killed him…he was dead on the floor, not breathing, the whole bit.” Her gaze grew distant for a moment, “The Grey Wardens were holding him, but somehow he used his connection to the darkspawn to control them.”

Hyperia frowned, “So…it’s entirely possible that the Wardens’ ‘disappearance’ might have to do with his presence. Maybe he’s controlling them again?”

“That’s what we’re thinking”. At Hyperia’s curious glance, Ysara looked away for a moment before continuing, “I have a…friend…in the Wardens who was investigating corruption in their ranks.”

“Corypheus would certainly qualify as ‘corruption in the ranks’”, Varric commented blandly. Though Hyperia didn’t miss the sidelong glance he tossed Ysara. _They’re hiding something._ “Did your friend disappear as well?”

“No, he’s hiding out in an old smuggler’s cave in Crestwood.”

Hyperia sighed, “Well, I suppose we should go talk to him. And hope he’s not the type who is going to try and drag me off to Weisshaupt for my own ‘disappearance’ from the Wardens.”

“I…don’t think that will be a problem”, Ysara glanced away, biting her lip, “Considering that he’s being hunted by them as well.”

“Oh, Andraste’s flaming arse, Hawke…just tell her!”, Varric exclaimed in exasperation.

“Fine!”, Ysara flashed him a look of irritated betrayal before turning to Hyperia, “My Warden ‘friend’…is Alistair.”

Hyperia felt like someone had punched her in the gut, her legs suddenly going to jelly. She hadn’t seen her former husband in years…hadn’t heard from him in almost as long. The last time had been a letter he had sent to Redcliffe, apparently in hopes that she might pass through there. She had, eventually. She felt her chest tighten, remembering reading his apologies…his regrets over what had been said before she left for Amaranthine. But, too much time had passed and, though she still cared for him, she knew that she could never go back.

She had sent him a letter before her departure to the Conclave, simply stating her intentions to meet Fiona. But she never knew if he received it. _Maker, if he had…he must think I’m dead._

The silence apparently stretched on longer than the loquacious Varric was willing to endure, for he piped up with, “Well, I guess we need to start making preparations to head to Crestwood.”

Snapped from her ruminations, Hyperia nodded absently, “Yes…we’ll leave in the morning.” Without another word, she turned and made her way from the battlements, leaving the pair to watch her retreating form.

“Nice job, Varric”, Hawke muttered sarcastically.

“What?”, he shrugged, “Were you not going to tell her that you’ve been running around with her ex-husband for the past year?”

Ysara shot him an irritated scowl, “I wasn’t ‘running around’ with him…not like _that_ , anyway. And I was going to let it be a surprise”, she muttered, the scowl turning sulky.

Varric eyed her for a moment, “You just wanted to see if they still have feelings for each other.”

“I’m not an idiot, Varric, I know they do. I just—“

“—wanted to see how much. Yeah, I get it.” He waved her off as his gaze turned towards the courtyard, “You know this is going to get really complicated with Curly here, right?”

Ysara quirked a brow, “So he’s—?”

“Still carrying a torch bright enough to light up all of Ferelden for her? Yeah. You’d think they were already married by the way they fight, though”, he chuckled.

“Oh Varric…always a romantic.”

“That’s me. I have to be…with everything we’ve been through. I’d go as insane as Bartrand if I wasn’t.”

“I’m not going to comment on that”, Ysara said teasingly.

“Probably a good idea”, Varric said, pushing away from the crate he had been leaning on. “Guess we should get ready to get this little expedition underway.”

“It’s definitely going to be interesting…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was yet another chapter that kicked my butt something awful. The Hawke/Alistair scene just popped into my head one day, so I ran with it. But, even though I've been anticipating writing the Hawke/Varric/Hyperia scene for ages now, once it came time to actually write it, I went brain-dead. So, I didn't unpack nearly as much as I'd originally intended, but I'm planning on expanding on the whole awkward Hawke/Hyperia/Alistair/Cullen relationship polygon along the way. :-D
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it so far!


	18. Tension Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyperia isn't the only one who's anxious about her impending reunion with Alistair.  
> Cassandra confronts Varric about his deception.  
> Cullen recalls an encounter with Anders.

Hyperia stalked through the main hall towards her new quarters, her mind running itself in circles over the prospect of her reunion with Alistair.

_We haven’t seen each other in years. Does he even feel anything for me anymore? Does it even matter? I don’t even know what I feel. If he asks for forgiveness and wants to come back to me, would I accept? Or would I be the one apologizing for ignoring his letters? Perhaps he hates me now._

She couldn’t help but remember how Hawke had spoken about him. There was something in her voice that suggested they could be more than friends…which would imply that he was over her. She partially hoped that was true. But another part of her had missed him so much over their years apart that it made her ache.

“Inquisitor?” a voice nudged her out of her thoughts. One of the Inquisition’s many scouts stood looking at her expectantly.

“Yes, what is it?”

“You’re needed in the War Room. Commander Cullen said it was urgent.” The scout gestured to the door leading to Ambassador Montilyet’s office and the planning room beyond.

“Very well”, she sighed, even though a part of her was grateful for the distraction.

As she walked into the vast War Room, all three of her self-proclaimed “advisors” were hunched around the map of southern Thedas that dominated the huge table in the center. Leliana was frowning over a note in her hand.

“Ah…good, you’re here”, Cullen stated tersely as she approached the trio. “We have a situation.”

Silently, Hyperia hoped that it had nothing to do with Hawke’s arrival. Varric had heavily implied that he had slipped her in unseen, but she knew that Leliana’s spies were everywhere.

“What is it?”

Leliana spoke up, “About a week ago, some of our soldiers went missing in the Fallow Mire. Today, we received this note stating they are being held captive by the Avvar living there. And, the chieftain requires you to go personally to secure their release.”

“Of course”, she muttered, “No doubt a trap of some sort.”

“The Avvar have a very strange sense of honor”, Josephine offered, “It may be a trap…or a test. Despite the fact that Andraste was of the Alammari, they still see the Maker as a false god. Since you are becoming known as the representative of Andraste, perhaps he wishes to prove the superiority of his gods by challenging you.”

“So…he wants a duel?” Hyperia said, quirking a brow.

“Perhaps…or it could simply be a test to see if you value your men’s lives”, Josephine shrugged, “It is really hard to say when it comes to the Avvar. Each tribe has their own code and way of doing things.”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out”, she said with a sigh before turning to Leliana. “While I’m gone, can you scout out Crestwood for me? I will need to head there after this business is complete.”

Leliana canted her head, tossing Hyperia a curious frown, “Crestwood? Why?”

Hyperia waved her off dismissively as she turned to leave the room, “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when I get back.” She paused to chuckle, “If you haven’t had your people ferret it out by then.”

\---------------------

“You knew where she was all along?!” The angry yell was accompanied by the sound of furniture scraping across the floor, feet pounding on wood as Cassandra chased Varric around a table.

“Damn straight I did!” Varric spat in return as he nimbly dodged her attacks while the subject of their argument leaned against the railing, looking on with faint bemusement.

“You conniving little shit!” Cassandra lunged forward to take a swing at Varric even as Ysara pushed away from the railing to interpose herself between them. But Varric continued railing at the Seeker from around her.

“You kidnapped me! You interrogated me!”

“Enough!” Hawke yelled, glaring at Cassandra.

Cassandra merely returned her glare, “We needed someone to lead the Inquisition. We searched for the Hero of Ferelden, but she had disappeared. Then we searched for you…but you were gone too. We thought it connected, but it was just him”, she turned a baleful glare upon Varric.

“You have the Hero of Ferelden now! What are you complaining about?!” Ysara yelled in exasperation.

Cassandra turned away, her voice growing tight, as though fighting back emotion, “If we had known she was at the Conclave…if you had been there with her…maybe this could have been prevented somehow.”

Ysara barked out a harsh laugh, “You’re kidding, right? You wanted me at the Conclave…amongst people who still blame me for what happened in Kirkwall?!” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, “I’m honestly surprised I haven’t been blamed for the temple exploding too! After all, blowing up Chantry buildings is supposedly what I do best!”

“She’s with us now”, Varric interjected before Cassandra could reply. “We’re all on the same side.”

“We all know whose side you’re on, Varric”, Cassandra spat venomously as footsteps echoed on the stairs, “It’s not the Inquisition’s.”

Hyperia emerged into the loft room, gaze darting amongst the trio before fixing upon Cassandra, “That is completely unfair, Cassandra. Why would he have been on the Inquisition’s side back then? He had no idea why you wanted Hawke. And I think he’s more than proven he’s on our side now.”

Cassandra’s mouth opened, then snapped shut as she turned away, “I just—I had hoped—“

“That we could have prevented the Divine’s death? Cassandra, I was _there_. According to the vision at the Temple…she called out to me for help, yet I couldn’t stop it!” Hyperia sighed, walking over to lean against the rail beside Cassandra, “Hawke and I…we’re only human. Chances are, nothing and no one could have stopped what happened.”

“Then what am I to believe?” She said, her voice cracking, “That the Maker _wanted_ this to happen?!”

“Sometimes bad things happen to good people”, Hyperia sighed, laying a hand on the Seeker’s shoulder, “Why did Duncan and King Cailan have to die at Ostagar?”

“Why did Elthina…hells, not to mention, my own mother...have to die at Kirkwall?!” Ysara added.

Hyperia nodded, “There may be some grand purpose behind it…or it could just be the way of the world that good people die sometimes when they’re needed the most.”

Cassandra heaved a weary sigh, “I—I’m sorry. I am a fool.”

Hyperia laughed, laying a hand on her shoulder, “Have you met the rest of the Inquisition, Cassandra? We’re all a bunch of bloody fools around here!”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Her voice was rough, but a smile tugged at the corner of the Seeker’s lips.

Hyperia shrugged, chuckling, “More at home, maybe.”

Cassandra sighed, glancing about the room for the dwarf, who had quietly made himself scarce, “I suppose I should go apologize to Varric.”

“I’ll go check on him”, Ysara offered, “He’s probably off somewhere, blowing off steam with Bianca.”

Hyperia nodded, then said, “Wait. Before you go, I needed to tell you that we’re going to have to put off heading to Crestwood for a short while. Now, don’t look at me like that”, she said to Ysara who had fixed her with a suspicious scowl, “It’s nothing to do with Alistair. Some of our soldiers have been kidnapped by Avvar and apparently, they won’t be released unless I’m there.”

Ysara shrugged, “Fine, I understand. If you’re not back in a week, I’ll start heading that way and meet you at the cave I told you about.”

“Are you--?” Hyperia began, chewing her lip nervously.

“Going to tell him it’s you?” An impish smile tugged at Ysara’s lips. “Hmm…probably not. I’ll let it be a surprise. Just don’t keep me waiting too long or he might manage to get it out of me regardless.”

Hyperia chuckled, though her eyes did not reflect her mirth, “Yes, he’s rather good at that.”

\------------------------

“So now you’re taking _her_ side?!”, Varric exclaimed in obvious exasperation.

Ysara scowled, hands on hips as she rolled her eyes, “I’m not taking anyone’s side…just that Cassandra regrets what she said about you and the Inquisition!”

Varric released a derisive snort, “Sure she does. And I just saw the winter migration of flying nugs soar overhead.”

“You’re impossible!” Ysara tossed her hands in the air and strode away, leaving Varric to continue turning the training dummies into pincushions.

After she was out of earshot, she released a disgusted huff, and a bemused voice commented from nearby, “You’re beginning to sound like Cassandra.”

Turning towards the familiar voice, Ysara chuckled, “Don’t let Varric hear you say that. It’ll just give him one more reason to be upset with me.” She grinned as he approached, “So, it’s ‘Commander Cullen’ now? Moving up in the world, I see.”

“I suppose you could say that”, he shrugged as he fell into step beside her as she headed towards the tavern.

“Don’t look so glum about it”, she laughed, pushing open the door before heading to an empty table near the bar, “At least you’re not dealing with a city full of blood mages anymore!”

He hesitated for a moment, as though just realizing where he was before settling into the chair across from hers, “No, just a ragtag ‘army’ of everything from farmhands who barely know which end of a sword to hold, to chevaliers who sniff their noses at this ‘backwater’ every other minute. And a tower full of rebel mages, some of whom could be blood mages. And the logistics of—“

“Alright, alright! I get the picture!” Hawke laughed, waving the barmaid over, “Sounds like you could use something stronger than an ale with all of that!”

Frowning, he shook his head, “No, I probably shouldn’t even have that. I should be getting back—“

“Two ales”, Ysara said to the barmaid with a wink, who nodded knowingly and scurried off.

“You’re incorrigible”, Cullen muttered, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“So I’ve been told”, she grinned as the barmaid returned with their drinks. Ysara immediately took a long swig before leaning back in her chair with a contented sigh, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to see you off when you left. Bran told me about your resignation.”

“Your seneschal….yes”, Cullen replied, “He said you were off with the Grey Wardens?”

“Right. They were rather curious as to why Corypheus had disappeared…along with all the Wardens in that prison of theirs, after I’d reported that I’d killed him.”

Cullen nearly choked on the sip he had taken, “What?! You killed--- When did this happen?!”

Ysara rolled her eyes, “Well, obviously I didn’t kill him…it didn’t take or something since he’s walking around now. And it was…shortly after my mother died.”

“Varric had said you knew about Corypheus, but I didn’t realize that—“ He trailed off, shaking his head before taking a long sip of the ale, “And this was before everything…well…exploded?”

“Yes”, she sighed, “Corypheus tried to take over Anders. That’s how we figured out he could control Grey Wardens.” She took a long drink of her own before continuing, “Apparently the other Wardens found out about what happened there and wanted to talk to me about it. So, we went back to the prison and…that’s when we found out he was gone.”

“And you’ve been working with the Wardens ever since? Or so Varric seemed to imply from what little I got out of him.”

Ysara stared into the mug for a long moment, then nodded, “Well, mostly just one. Alistair.” She glanced up to gauge his reaction.

A cascade of emotions flickered across his face in a matter of seconds: surprise, introspection, then resignation. “Damn, I wondered why she seemed so…preoccupied at the meeting”, he sighed, taking a long drink.

“You’re afraid she’s going to go back to him”, Hawke didn’t phrase it as a question. “They’re not married anymore, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Cullen grumbled, recalling a conversation from years ago, back in Kirkwall.

> _He had encountered Ysara and Anders as they strolled the streets of Hightown,“Ah, Hawke….the new scion of the Amell family, congratulations!”_
> 
> _She had smiled while Anders had silently bristled at his presence, “Thank you, Knight-Captain!”_
> 
> _The family name had engendered memories that he had tried very hard to put away and he couldn’t help but sigh, “I knew an Amell once. She was a very special woman. Never met her like again.”_
> 
> _A derisive snort came from beside Hawke as Anders pinned him with a baleful glare, “Yes, I heard of your ‘foolish infatuation’ with her. How she saved your life and you treated her like dirt, just because she was a mage!”_
> 
> _He had felt as though someone had punched him in the gut, his eyes narrowing at the apostate, “As though you have room to talk! You…ravaged her just to cover for another one of your escape attempts!”_
> 
> _“I apologized and she not only accepted it, but let me ‘ravage’ her nearly every night before she left Amaranthine”, Anders spat out with a smirk._
> 
> _“You—“, Cullen had sputtered in shock, “But---she’s married!”_
> 
> _“Not anymore. Apparently, she finally got it through her head that falling in love with Templars…even former ones…is a very bad idea.” Anders had shaken his head in mock dismay, “Sad, really. She said that you used to be ‘one of the good ones’…and look at you now. Just proves my point that, when it comes to Templars, there are no ‘good ones’. I’m glad she’s not here to see the person you really are.”_
> 
> _“Anders, that’s enough!” Hawke had interposed herself between them and guided him away, with a mouthed apology over her shoulder to Cullen, who stood mutely in numb shock._

“He was lucky you were with him that day, else I would have had him dragged off to Meredith”, he growled softly at the memory.

Ysara only sighed, “Looking back, I rather wish you had.”

Taking one last swig of the ale, she continued, “As far as Alistair, I have almost as much invested in her not going back to him as you do. So…I’ll do what I can…but no promises. I know he still loves her.”

Cullen merely shrugged, “Thanks. I want her to happy…whoever she chooses.” Even as he said the words, he wasn’t sure if he meant them. To have the small bit of hope he had built up since she had come back into his life dashed, would be devastating.

Shaking his head to try to clear them of the morose thoughts, he pushed from his chair, “I should get back to work”, he muttered before turning to stride out of the tavern.

Ysara sighed as she watched his retreating form with sympathy, “Damn…Varric was right. You do have it bad for her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is a very conversation-heavy chapter. I originally was going to just skip forward over the Fallow Mire trip to their return to Skyhold after. But, then decided that this was a good opportunity for Hawke to get some spotlight time as she reunites with a few familiar faces from Kirkwall.  
> The flashback at the end just popped into my head today when I hopped in the shower. It always bugged me that Anders and Cullen never seemed to recognize one another in the game. I figured that, if nothing else, Cullen would have at least heard of Anders (due to his infamous escape attempts). And, considering all that happened in my own personal head-canon, I knew they would have had at least one tense confrontation at some point in Kirkwall. I also wanted to use that conversation as a sort of start of a turning point in Cullen's attitude towards mages.


	19. Breathless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyperia and her companions travel to the Fallow Mire to deal with the Avvar holding their people hostage.  
> Upon their return to Skyhold, she finds herself face-to-face with something she did not expect.

“Uuugghh …I will never gripe about being stuck in Skyhold again!” Sera suddenly exclaimed as she trudged irritably behind their party.

Until that moment, the only sounds accompanying them had been the incessant hiss of rain and the chirping of frogs, punctuated by the squelching of their boots in the mud.

Hyperia had to admit, the Fallow Mire was probably the last place on Thedas she wanted to be right now…or any other time, for that matter. It was a land of putrid bogs and shambling undead, their path lit only by a few sputtering torches that illuminated the ruined husks of ramshackle homes, some half-submerged in the swamp.

There had been a constant downpour the entire time since they arrived and, by now, everyone in their party was completely drenched and miserable. _Except Bull, it seems nothing ever gets him down_ , she mused as her gaze cut to the Qunari who lumbered along with his greataxe slung nonchalantly on one shoulder.

“C’mon Sera”, Hyperia called back to her, attempting to lighten the mood, “if I brought Varric to be our archer, we’d lose him in the mud before we got halfway there!”

“And that would be a bad thing?” Cassandra muttered testily at her side. Apparently, the Seeker was still nurturing something of a grudge towards the dwarf for his role in keeping Hawke hidden. _Or she’s gotten so used to ribbing him constantly, she doesn’t know anything else…even if she really doesn’t feel that way_ , Hyperia mused. She had a feeling that Cassandra’s goading was more teasing than aggressive.

The silhouette of a ruined keep loomed before them through the mist and rain, the faint sounds of battle echoing, muffled, through the near-darkness. Cautiously, they crept towards the main gate to find the Avvar battling a horde of undead.

“What’s say we just take a breather right here and let them hash it out, eh?” Sera said hopefully.

Hyperia actually wasn’t averse to the idea. If nothing else, they’d have less of an ordeal getting through the keep with the Avvar and undead’s numbers diminished. But before she could reply, the sounds of sloshing water and distinct groans of the creatures echoed from behind them.

Turning, they spotted another horde rising from the depths of the swamp to close off the path behind them, their slimy, clawed hands reaching out mindlessly to the group.

“So much for that idea”, Cassandra grumbled, “I say we make a run for it and hope they are all too distracted fighting each other to bother with us.”

Hyperia nodded, “Looks like our only choice at this point.”

“What are we waiting for then?” Bull asked before bellowing a thundering roar and charging the undead blocking their way to the keep, his greataxe swinging.

Following in the trail of shattered corpses left in his wake, their boots splashing in the mud and slime, the rest of their group sprinted towards the gate.

The next few minutes were a cacophony of screams, grunts, the burst of magic, and crunch of smashed limbs as they tore their way through the mass, only to find the inner gate closed tight.

“Find the controls!” Cassandra called out even as a few stray arrows whizzed past them. Whether the Avvar were aiming at them or the undead, it was impossible to tell.

“Got it!” Sera yelled as she tugged on the lever, her feet slipping in the mud, her features screwed up into a grimace of effort.

Bull strode over with a grunt and pushed down on the lever, one-handed, and the gate rose with a clatter.

“Show off”, Sera muttered as Bull shot her a lopsided grin.

“Let’s go!” Hyperia yelled, leading them through the gate and up towards the main hall of the keep where the Avvar leader awaited.

Moments later, they entered a ruined hall of crumbling stones and a roof open to the downpour that soaked the moss-covered tiles, lit by sputtering braziers that barely illuminated the Avvar positioned upon a raised dais.

The leader stood head and shoulders above them all, a headpiece topped with great, curved horns adding to his stature, his hands grasping a maul that could have once been a small tree trunk. Two slender females flanked him, bows held at the ready. At the base of the dais, his lieutenant stood, his burly form nearly concealed behind a large shield.

“The ‘Herald of Andraste’ has come at last!” The leader roared mockingly down at them.

Hyperia glared up at him, “Where are my men?”

He chuckled, “They’re here….and alive. I am the Hand of Korth and once I’ve defeated you, I’m going to make you watch as I kill them…slowly.”

Unsheathing her staff, she growled, “I don’t think so”. Even as she spoke, her fingers wove in a subtle pattern, a glow of orange-gold pulsing over her skin.

With a roar, the lieutenant charged forward, shield braced, the sound echoed by Bull as he charged to meet him. In nearly the same instant, a burst of flame erupted atop the dais, sending the two women scrambling for cover and the leader hurtling down the stairs with a feral snarl.

Arrows whizzed through the air as Sera and one of the Avvar archers exchanged fire, the second firing at Bull’s massive form. The Qunari hissed as one found its mark to streak a line of crimson across his shoulder, the pain just enough of a distraction for the lieutenant to crash into him with his shield, setting him off-balance. Cassandra moved to flank the shield-bearer, raining blows upon him to distract him while Bull recovered.

As Hyperia launched a series of bolts towards the second archer, the leader charged around the three warriors as they clashed, heading straight for his prey. Hyperia backpedaled, launching a spray of fire at him even as he slipped around her with a speed that belayed his size and wrapped one massive hand around her throat.

Her staff clattered to the ground as she instinctively tried to grasp at his hand. _A spell….anything…_ her mind screamed at her, but she couldn’t concentrate as spots swam before her eyes, the room going gray.

“Don’t worry…I’m not going to kill you…yet”, the man hissed in her face, his eyes wild, teeth rotten.

Despite his words, she could feel her windpipe collapsing beneath his grip, his fingers digging deeply into her throat. Just as the world began to turn black, the ringing in her ears was interrupted by a roar and the pressure around her neck was released. She crumpled to the ground, gasping for air that did not want to seem to come. It seemed an eternity spent on her hands and knees, her body screaming for breath, fighting back unconsciousness, before a voice cried out as though from some distance away.

“Inquisitor! Can you hear me?”

“Boss? C’mon Boss, don’t do this to us…breathe…”

It felt as though every nerve was screaming as she lifted her gaze to see the blurry forms of Bull and Cassandra, kneeling beside her, their eyes filled with worry. “Is…is he---?” She managed to force from oxygen-starved lungs.

“Dead? Yes…quite”, Cassandra replied in what was almost a growl.

“Hey!” Sera’s voice echoed from the other side of the hall, “I found our people!”

Fingers fumbling for her fallen staff, Hyperia carefully leveraged herself upright. _It wouldn’t do to see their valiant rescuer collapsed on the floor._

Apparently, Cassandra shared her notion as she passed her a vial of shimmering red liquid. Hyperia gratefully took it, wincing as the healing potion burned its way down her throat. The pain dulled somewhat, and she found she could breathe with slightly less difficulty, but it would no doubt be some time before she had recovered fully.

_Hopefully before we get to Crestwood_ , she mused to herself, _I can’t face Alistair like this…I’ll need to be strong._

\----------------------------

A week later, their entourage rode wearily through the gates of Skyhold. The sun had long since set and most of the Inquisition had sought out their respective beds. Hyperia was more than ready to do the same…preferably after a bath. Their time in the Fallow Mire had left her filthy and aching. The bruising around her throat where the Avvar had strangled her had faded slightly, but still left an imprint of sickly-colored blotches upon her neck.

“I can take him for you, m’lady”, one of the rescued Inquisition soldiers piped up from her side. She had barely registered that they had arrived and the others were dismounting and leading their tired horses to the stables.

“Thank you”, she rasped quietly as she slid from her horse. Although she could breathe easier now, there was still a hoarseness to her voice that she wasn’t sure would ever go away.

She didn’t even bother stifling a yawn as she ambled towards the main hall. The courtyard was silent save for the faint ring of steel against wood. _Someone’s getting in some late-night practice_ , she thought as she began climbing the stairs.

She hadn’t even noticed that the sound had stopped in favor of footsteps approaching. All she wanted was sleep and a bath…in whichever order her body allowed.

“Inquisitor!” _Ugh…go away, whoever you are. It’s late…_

“Hyperia!”

Somehow the sound of her name jarred her into a semi-alertness and her mind managed to recognize the voice behind it. “What is it, Cullen?” She muttered wearily, pausing to turn.

“I’m glad to see you’re back. Did all of our people make it?”

“Yes, Cullen—“, she began with more than a hint of annoyance in her voice, but suddenly trailed off as she turned to face him.

Apparently, he had been the one getting in some late-night sparring, his sword still in hand, sweat sheening his brow….and, well, everywhere else, since he was clad only in a pair of loose pants and boots. She suddenly realized that this was the first time she had ever seen him out of armor.

No, not the first time…that had been back at the Circle. Caged and beaten, he had lain there, while she had thoughts of only worry and the desperate need to free him. She had barely even noticed. But now…now, she noticed. Every curve of musculature, every scar, every bead of sweat. _Maker’s breath…I’m staring…I need to stop staring._

She quickly, self-consciously flicked her gaze to his face, but the way a damp lock of hair, usually kept immaculate, curved over his brow just…fascinated her. _Say something._ “I—yes, they’re fine. On their way to the barracks”, she said, inwardly wincing at the unnatural rasp in her voice.

Apparently he noticed it too because a frown furrowed his brow. _Maker, I’m tired, filthy, and sound like a strangled frog. Why did you have to come to me looking like that now?!_

“Maker’s breath, what happened?” The worry in his voice was evident as he crossed the space between them, reaching his free hand towards the still-livid bruises encircling her throat.

Instinctively, she stepped back, eyes wide, even as it felt as though her heart would beat right out of her chest. She _wanted_ him to touch her…but she knew that if he did, she would be lost. Images of her lips crushed against his as her fingers caressed his sweat-damp skin flashed in her mind. _No, I can’t…not now. Maybe not ever…_

She felt as though her face must have been glowing with the heat it was radiating as she mumbled, “I have to go”, before turning and fleeing up the stairs as fast as her weary legs would take her.

\----------------------

Cullen stood mutely, watching her retreating form in confusion. _What has come over her…?_ But even as the thought crossed his mind, the answer was made clear. _Oh Maker, I am a fool. She’s still in love with him…and I’ve been chasing her like a stray mabari puppy._

Raking a hand through his hair, he strode back towards the practice pillories, feeling the need now more than ever, to beat on something. _She’ll meet up with him in Crestwood, and that will be it. After all of these years and everything I said and did, I was an idiot to think…_

But even after a few swings at the unfeeling dummies, the ache in his bones forced him to stop. It was just one more layer of frustration to add to it all. The lyrium cravings made him weaker than he felt he should be. But it was an endless cycle of weakness, followed by the pain of trying to over-compensate, which fed back into the weakness again.

_I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this. I have to…I owe it to the Inquisition, but…what good am I in this state?_ They were the same thoughts that circled about in his head every day, like a mabari chasing its tail. Every day, he said that he would tell Cassandra to give his position to someone more capable…but at the end of every day, he found he could not. He felt he would be giving up…and he couldn’t imagine a day where he wasn’t able to fulfill his duties as Commander.

With a weary sigh, he made his way towards his quarters, praying that exhaustion would allow him to sleep…and that the nightmares would leave him be…just for one night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This was one of those chapters that really fought me. I had the last part all cooked up ages ago, I just needed a good place to slide it in (hah...innuendo not intended). But, once I researched travel time from the Fallow Mire to Skyhold, I realized that it wouldn't work with a two-week journey (since she'd be mostly healed up by then), so....for those sticklers for accuracy (like me), we're just going to say that my AU Thedas is a slightly more...compact...version, making travel times a bit shorter than in canon. (Otherwise, I'd end up spending more time with them on the road than actually doing anything. Not that there won't be tales from the road too...)  
> But anyway, I think I have the hardest times with chapters that I have everything already cooked up in my mind for because I'm constantly worrying that they won't transfer from my brain to screen the way I want. I think I did okay on this one though... :-)


	20. Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyperia prepares for her reunion with Alistair in Crestwood, though memories haunt her. Leliana offers some advice and comfort.  
> Rain...and undead...again...

_Vigil’s Keep_

_Nine years ago…_

“A letter for you, Commander.”

Hyperia glanced up at her seneschal, Varel, her gaze drifting to the official-looking scroll with the seal of the Chantry embossed upon it.

“Maker’s breath, I hope this isn’t some sort of petition for me to release Anders to the Templars…again. I don’t know how many more times I can tell Ser Rylock that the rite of Conscription overrules Chantry law.”

Taking the scroll, she unfurled it, the blood draining from her face as she read the words penned neatly upon it:

“…formal request by Lord Alistair Theirin to petition the Chantry to Annul his marriage to Lady Hyperia Amell, performed in the sight of the Maker on…”

She could barely make out the rest from the tears that blurred her vision.

“Commander, what is it? Are you --?”

“Just…leave me…please…” She tried to keep her voice from cracking, but failed. She barely heard the door close before tears began to flow.

 _No, this can’t be happening. Why would he do this?_ But, she knew…she just couldn’t believe it.   _I knew he was upset about my leaving, but I never imagined he’d do…this…_

Part of her wanted to believe it wasn’t true…that it was some sort of ruse by Eamon or one of the others…to put him on the throne, or just as revenge for her not going along with their plans to do so. But, her eyes fell upon a small slip of paper that had fallen out of the scroll, penned in Alistair’s uniquely-messy script and stained with small droplets.

_My love, I am so sorry to do this to you. I didn’t want it to end this way… If you were here, I don’t know if I could do this. To look in your eyes. Please, come back to me. Don’t make me do this._

She could feel the heartbreak emanating from every word of his letter, but something about it stirred a flame of anger within her. _“Don’t make me do this”? As though this is my fault. Again, he’s leaving the hard decisions up to me so that he doesn’t take the responsibility for them._

The more she thought about it, the more upset she became. _Is this about my not being able to conceive or about my leaving…or both? Neither of those are my fault! Andraste’s flaming arse, I’m the one they shouldered the whole “Warden-Commander” title onto even though he’s the senior Warden of the two of us! I’m the one saddled with all the responsibility…and it should be him! He’s the one who desperately wanted to become a Warden, while they took me away from my home and everything…everyone…I ever loved!_

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she glared at the parchment as though she could set it aflame with just a look. _So this is the one time where he even tries to take an iota of responsibility for something…and he still tries to shift it onto me. Very well, Alistair, I will call your bluff._

Dipping the quill into the inkwell, she quickly signed the document, trying to fight back the feeling that someone had just ripped her heart from her chest. With shaking hands, she re-rolled the scroll into a new sheet of parchment and sealed it with the distinctive silver-flecked deep blue wax of the Warden-Commander.

With a firm set to her jaw, she stepped outside her office to find Varel lingering nearby.

Fighting to keep all emotion from her voice, she passed the scroll to him, “Have this sent to the Chantry at Weisshaupt immediately.” Even as he opened his mouth to reply, she snapped, “And never ask me about it again.”

\------------------------------

_A week ago…_

Hyperia stepped into the rookery, the raucous caws of Leliana’s birds filling the lofty space atop one of Skyhold’s towers. She quickly located the spymaster’s distinctive red hair and strode to her, a mixture of irritation and impish mischief crossing the latter’s features as she approached.

“So, what did you find out about Crestwood?” Hyperia inquired.

Leliana’s brows furrowed in mock-annoyance, “Aside from the fact that Alistair is there, you mean? And you couldn’t bother to mention that before you left?”

Hyperia shrugged, seeing through her façade, a smile tugging at her lips, “I told you that I knew you’d ferret it out. And I really didn’t want to go into everything…or deal with all the questions I knew you’d ask…at that particular time.”

Leliana crossed her arms, smirking, “Right…I know exactly why you didn’t want to talk about it then. Dirty deal for you to leave it for him to find out from Hawke.”

“That’s—no, that’s ridiculous!” Even as she sputtered the words, she could feel her face flushing with the memory of the previous night. “I mean…he was going to find out eventually. I just—“

“--didn’t want to be the one to tell him”, Leliana scowled. “Maker’s blessed arse, Hyperia, I swear you two are going to put me into an early grave more surely than all of our previous adventures combined!”

Noting the curious glances they were receiving from the scouts present, Leliana steered her out onto the balcony just outside to continue her lecturing away from prying ears, “I don’t know why you’re putting yourself through all of this…angst…over it! I mean, are you thinking of going back to Alistair?”

“No! I—“, she hesitated, shaking her head, “I don’t know! Maker, Leliana, you know how he can be! He’ll give me that mabari puppy look, and say something awkwardly romantic, and I’ll be putty in his hands again…just like I was during the Blight!”

“Do you really think so? A lot has happened since then…to you both.”

Hyperia sighed, shoulders slumping, “You’re probably right. For all I know, he probably hates me for ignoring all of his letters over the years, apologizing for everything and begging me to come back.”

Leliana draped a sympathetic arm around her shoulders, her voice quiet, “It would be easier if he did, wouldn’t it?”

Swallowing back a lump in her throat, Hyperia nodded, “Yes…if he says that he still loves me…that he wants me back…I don’t know what I’ll do. No matter what I do, I hurt someone I love.”

“I’d say that’s pretty true of life in general.” She sighed, “You remember what I said not long after we first arrived here, about what happened in Haven with my scouts?”

“That you regretted pulling them back because, even if they had died, it might have given us more time to prepare.”

Leliana nodded, “Every day I have to make decisions like that. I send my scouts…who are like my family to me…out into danger, never knowing if they’ll return. But I have to because if I don’t, it puts the entire Inquisition at risk.”

“Compared to that, my worrying over who I give my heart to just sounds so….shallow”, Hyperia murmured, her cheeks flushed with shame.

“It’s not. You’re the Inquisitor…you’re what’s holding the rest of us together”, she chuckled at Hyperia’s groan, “I know…you may not like it, but it’s true. You already have the weight of everything on your shoulders and whatever it takes to lessen that, even just a little, is worth it. During the Blight, Alistair gave you that happiness…that drive, to get through whatever came our way. Now, you have to decide again, who is going to get you through this?”

Hyperia could not help but flick her gaze across the courtyard to the tower in which the Inquisition’s Commander had claimed as his own. “I…don’t know.”

A knowing smile tugged at Leliana’s lips….nothing ever escaped her watchful eye, “I think you do. You just won’t admit it to yourself.” Noting the flush that rose to Hyperia’s cheeks, she merely smiled, “But, we were talking about my scouting report for Crestwood…”

\------------------

_Now…_

“Maker’s breath…is there no place on Thedas where it is not raining?!” Hyperia huffed in exasperation as they hiked away from the small village of Crestwood, once again, soaked to the bone by the unending downpour that fell upon the hilly land.

“And populated with undead”, Cassandra added just as irritably, “Don’t forget the undead.”

“Aw, c’mon now…look on the bright side”, Bull offered, “At least it’s not a swamp this time!”

Cassandra merely rolled her eyes, “Well, thank the Maker for small favors, I guess.”

“Sounds like I should be thankful I stayed behind”, Varric offered. Hyperia had decided to see if he and Cassandra could actually try to get along. Plus, she knew Varric was absolutely dying to meet the “famous” Warden, Alistair.

 _“King Maric’s secret love child and heir helps defeat the Blight and gives up the throne for the love of his fellow Warden, a beautiful mage…_ ” _Hyperia had rolled her eyes at that bit._ _“Now, that’s a love story for the ages!”_

_“Yes, the Wardens thought so too. Hence why they ordered us not to mention that our ‘great love’ was annulled barely a month after the wedding”, she had replied sardonically. The look on Varric’s face had been priceless. But, he still persisted in wanting to tell their story, even if it hadn’t been the sweeping romantic saga he had hoped for. So, she acquiesced with the wicked thought that maybe now he would have someone else to pester for his stories._

“Probably”, Hyperia offered, an impish smile on her lips, “Cassandra wanted to see if we could lose you in the bog.”

The Seeker released an indignant huff, “I—that was a joke, Inquisitor!”

“Oh?” Hyperia replied in mock-surprise, “I am never sure with you sometimes.”

She was grateful that the hooded cloak she wore concealed the mischievous glint in her eyes. After their journey to the Fallow Mire, they had all made certain to pack better for the weather. The cloak managed to keep the worst of the rain at bay, but it proved to be even more useful for concealing her identity from the pair of Grey Wardens they encountered on the road, who were searching for Alistair.

What they had to say both relieved and disturbed her. Apparently Alistair had been expertly evading his pursuers for some time and there had been admiration along with the frustration in their tone.

“I hope Alistair comes quietly. I’d not fight the man who helped defeat the Blight”, one had said.

They’d also mentioned a “Warden-Commander Clarel” and Hyperia recalled that she was the Commander of the Grey in Orlais. _What jurisdiction would she have over Alistair? He’s a Ferelden Warden._ She had wanted to ask, but feared giving herself away. _Maker, that could mean that there is no Ferelden Warden-Commander. Did they not choose a replacement after I left?_

Guilt twisted her gut as she let that sink in. _Oh Maker, then whatever Clarel is doing…if I hadn’t left. I could have stopped her. I should have—_

Any further thought was interrupted by the sight of a keep, rising through the mist, its massive wooden door shut against intruders and the elements.

“This must be the bandit keep the mayor told us about”, Varric offered. “We’ll need to take it if we want to get to the rift in the lake.”

As the others turned to survey the gate, Varric tossed her a quick wink, confirming that he had brought it up on purpose. She tossed him a grateful smile. _Bless you, Varric_.

If she had brought it up, the others would have no doubt teased her for trying to put off her reunion with Alistair. _It’s not untrue._ Her stomach had been in knots ever since they had arrived in Crestwood and she had honestly been thankful that the mayor had informed her (though a bit reluctantly) on how to access the underwater rift that was spewing out undead.

“Well…shall we?” Even as she spoke, a sphere of swirling fire grew between her hands and before anyone could reply, she hurled it at the gates, sending them exploding into a shower of splinters.

An outcry sounded from within the keep as her party rushed in to engage the bandits, the spatter of rain mingling with the “thwip” of arrows and the clashing of steel.

\----------------

After what seemed like an eternity later (but was actually only an hour), they all sagged wearily under an overhang, warming themselves by the fire. The entire battle had a strange sense of déjà vu, especially when the bandit leader had proven to be another massive Avvar, wielding an enormous maul.

Thankfully, this one did not have the other’s single-minded devotion to killing her, so they were able to take him down with slightly less effort….though Bull came away with more than a few bruises and Cassandra’s shield now sported a slight crack.

Using the lure that Leliana had given her before they had departed Skyhold, Hyperia attracted one of her messenger birds and sent notice to the scouting party that the fort was secure. _Scout Harding will be thankful to get out of the rain, I’m sure. And they can start bringing the villagers here so they can be safe behind sturdier walls until we take care of the undead problem._

“We’ll camp here tonight until the scouts arrive in the morning. No point in pushing to the lake when it’s this late. And we could all use the rest.”

If anyone thought to disagree or tease her for delaying her meeting with Alistair…again…they kept it to themselves. _Probably too tired to argue. Thank the Maker for that small favor,_ she thought as she joined the others in settling in for the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I delayed the reunion yet one more chapter! I'm so bad!  
> Next chapter, I promise. :-D  
> And woo hoo....20 chapters down! Quite a few more to go!  
> Once the reunion is done, I'll be slowing the pace a lot to really delve into all the head-canon I have bouncing around in my brain. There will be much time spent at Skyhold, getting to know everyone a bit better...and of course, there will be romance! I've been kind of speeding through everything to get to this point because the reunion is really a huge turning point for Hyperia and once it's out of the way, things can really get rolling (especially with her and Cullen).  
> Enjoy!


	21. To See You Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and his ex-wife finally come face-to-face with each other and feelings long buried...both good and bad.
> 
> [Hello, it's me  
> I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet  
> To go over everything  
> They say that time's supposed to heal ya  
> But I ain't done much healing  
> Hello, can you hear me?  
> I'm in California dreaming about who we used to be  
> When we were younger and free  
> I've forgotten how it felt  
> Before the world fell at our feet]  
> ["Hello" by Adele]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!  
> It's a bit shorter than my usual chapters, but I wanted to keep the reunion itself undiluted with other things for Maximum Feels :-D.  
> The next chapter will be a whole lot of conversations, soul-searching, introductions, and reunions...both on the road and at Skyhold itself.  
> Enjoy! :-)

“You are going to wear a hole in the ground if you don’t stop”, Ysara Hawke’s voice echoed hollowly within the small cave.

The object of her admonishment paused, tossing her a lopsided smile, “Sorry, can’t help it. I thought you said they’d be here by now.”

“They had to take care of something in the Fallow Mire and said they’d head this way after that. Maybe it took longer than they thought”, she shrugged, crossing the space between them to lay her hands on Alistair’s shoulders, “It will be fine, trust me.”

“I do”, he said, taking one of her hands to place a gentle kiss upon her fingers, “It’s just that the longer we stay here, the more chances are that we’re discovered. You already said that you spotted a couple of Wardens poking around the village.”

“I seriously doubt they’ll be able to trace you here”, she reassured him.

He merely chuckled, a playful glint in his hazel eyes, “Let’s hope not or this Inquisitor will have come all this way for nothing if I get dragged back to Weisshaupt.”

“I won’t let that happen, I swear”, Hawke replied, her features darkening.

“Ah, my fierce protectress, always looking out for me”, he grinned before changing the subject, “So, this Inquisitor. Sounds ominous. You’ve never really told me what he…she…it…is like?”

Hawke’s shoulders tensed as she turned away, hoping that the gesture would be seen as simple thoughtfulness and not anxiety. “Well, I….” She trailed off, her gaze darting to the cave entrance. “Wait, I thought I heard something. I’m going to go check it out.”

His brows furrowed in worry as she drew her twin daggers, “Be careful. Don’t let them catch you.”

She merely tossed a crooked grin over her shoulder, “I don’t tell you how to bash darkspawn over the head, so you don’t need to tell me how to remain unseen.”

“Point taken.”

\-------------------

“Maker’s breath, you got here just in time!” Hawke exclaimed as Hyperia and her companions approached the cave. “He’s been pestering me repeatedly about you.”

“He doesn’t—“

“Know it’s you? No…but another minute and he probably would have gotten it out of me.”

The torrential downpour had abated after they closed the rift, replaced by sunshine and a very light drizzle. However, Hyperia had opted to keep her head covered just in case they ran into Alistair’s Warden pursuers again. Plus, it helped to hide the apprehension that had to be written all over her face right now.

“Well then, I suppose there’s no reason to wait any longer”, she said, taking a deep breath. Her heart felt fit to pound right out of her chest. She wouldn’t have been surprised if her companions could hear it.

She gestured Cassandra and Bull to take the lead as she took another deep, shaky breath and followed them in.

“There you are!” The oh-so-familiar voice that she had not heard in years made her heart skip a beat. She could not see him from behind Bull’s hulking form, but she could almost imagine him standing there, looking the same as ever. “I guess one of these rather intimidating-looking pair is our Inquisitor?”

Swallowing the lump that had lodged itself in her throat, she stepped forward as Bull and Cassandra parted for her. She tried to keep her hands from shaking as she pulled the hood from her head and lifted her eyes to him. “Hello Alistair.”

He had not changed much in the past ten years…the boyish glint in his soft hazel-brown eyes, the unruly cowlick of copper hair that never wanted to lie down, the curve of his lips…all of these were just as she remembered. He sported a new scar across one cheek and there was a certain weariness to his features, as though he had not slept in some time, however these all seemed to lend an air of maturity to him.

_He should be sitting on the throne of Ferelden, not cowering in some dank cave. Maker, I should have not been so damn selfish._

“Maker’s breath! Hyperia?!” She glimpsed a quick succession of emotions play across his face: shock, disbelief, then relief, before he closed the steps between them to gather her into an embrace that took her breath away.

“I thought you were dead”, he whispered into her hair. “Your note said you were going to the Conclave and then…we heard the Temple was destroyed…there were no survivors…I thought…” His voice broke at the last.

She returned his embrace tightly. It had been so long…so very long since he…since anyone had held her like this. The past ten years of loneliness, the despair over never finding a cure, the explosion and everything after…it all came back to her in a rush and she clung to him as though he was the only thing that kept her from drowning in it all.

 _Don’t cry…it’s over…it’s been over…I can’t let him see me like this…_ The words whispered a litany in her head, but she still couldn’t let go….couldn’t stop the tears from flowing.

Even as she thought that she would cling to him forever, he pulled away slightly, a confused frown upon his face, “Did you….find the cure?”

She sighed in resignation and tried to find her voice, “No…I’m sorry. I tried everywhere…everyone I thought might have a clue…but there was nothing.”

He looked even more perplexed, head shaking, as he took her chin in his hand and looked into her eyes, “Then why can’t I feel you? There’s no Taint….at all.”

“What?!” Her eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s impossible.”

His gaze grew more intense, “Do you hear it?”

“Hear what?”

“The Calling.”

Now it was her turn to look confused, “No…but I wouldn’t this soon…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes grew wide with fear, “Oh no…no…are _you_ hearing it?”

He released her chin, nodding, “Yes…we all are.”

She stood dumbstruck at the implication, “But if I’m not….then, that means…”

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re cured”, a tiny, sad smile tugged at his lips.

"But, how…?” Even as she said it, she lifted her hand, her gaze falling upon the Mark glowing softly on her palm. “Somehow, when I got this…it must have…done something to purge the Taint?” Her eyes widened, “That’s why I couldn’t sense Corypheus or his archdemon! Oh Maker, why now?! I could have saved them…had some warning…!”

Alistair shook his head adamantly, “No, you don’t want this…listen to me. Corypheus is using the Taint to try to control us somehow. When Clarel discovered that we were all hearing the Calling, she got scared…started talking about using blood magic to prevent another Blight from ever happening.”

“What?!” Hyperia exclaimed, “Is she completely mad? Did Corypheus put that thought in her head?”

“No…though I have heard rumors of some sort of advisor. Perhaps an agent of Corypheus.” He shook his head with a sigh, “She’s desperate. She believes that we are all going to die and, with no Wardens to keep the Blight in check…well, you know what that means as well as I do.”

Hyperia began pacing, brows furrowed in thought, “But what I don’t understand is why are you being hunted down? The last I heard, she’s the _Orlesian_ Warden-Commander, not the Ferelden. You’re not even under her jurisdiction.”

A brief, bitter laugh echoed from his lips, “Well, there hasn’t been a Ferelden Warden-Commander in the past…oh, eight years or so, since the last one just up and disappeared.”

Hyperia flinched, feeling a stab of guilt, “But why? I would have thought they could have found someone to replace me. Maker’s balls, they could have chosen you! You were always my senior anyway!”

“Well, you know me. I’m allergic to leadership. Terrible hives, rash, the whole bit”, he flashed her a grin which was met by an irritated scowl.

“Damnit Alistair, you should have accepted it. You could have at least done something here….”

He cut her off sharply, “Or you could have just not decided to abandon your responsibilities in the first place.”

Hyperia felt as though he had just slapped her, “You’re one to lecture me about ‘abandoning responsibilities’! That’s all you ever did!” She yelled in frustration.

“Maker’s breath, you two sound like you’re still married”, Varric muttered loudly.

“Varric!” Hawke hissed, though there was a certain amusement in her eyes. No doubt at the flush that rose to color the cheeks of both Hyperia and Alistair.

Hyperia sighed, raking a hand through her hair, “He’s right. This isn’t the time to start pinning blame. There’s plenty to go around as it is.”

“Right”, Alistair said wearily, “About your other question: the Wardens are hunting me because, when Clarel started talking blood magic and summoning demons, I protested—perhaps a bit too loudly”, he shrugged, a smirk upon his lips, “She sent guards and…well, here I am.”

“So, do you know what they could be planning?” Cassandra spoke up.

Alistair cut a glance to her as though noticing the rest of them for the first time, “I don’t know exactly the ‘what’, but I have an idea of the ‘where’: The Western Approach. I heard mention of an old ritual tower there.”

“It’s a start anyway”, Hyperia sighed. “We can head back to Skyhold and I’ll get Leliana’s people on scouting the place out to see what we find.”

“Leliana’s with you?”

“Yes”, Hyperia chuckled, “And will no doubt have me strung up by my toenails if I don’t bring you back with us. She’s been dying to see you again.”

A faint smile tugged at Alistair’s lips, “I look forward to seeing her. I haven’t heard from her in years. She sent a letter quite some time back, about her new position with the Divine…and asking how we were doing.” The smile faded. “I didn’t tell her.”

Hyperia sighed, “I know. She was rather put out that it took her so long to find out about…everything.”

“I’m sure”, he murmured before shaking himself out of the melancholy, “Anyway, I suppose we should prepare to get on the road, we have a long journey ahead of us.”

His gaze grew distant and Hyperia knew that he wasn’t speaking solely of the physical road they would travel on. _A long and difficult journey indeed…._


	22. Slipping the Jesses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though hundreds of miles away, Hyperia and Cullen both find themselves freed from the past, and on the first steps to a new future.

_Skyhold_

“Your move, Commander.”

The Tevene-accented voice spoke quietly across a chess table covered in pieces arrayed in various strategic positions.

When the object of his statement did not respond, Dorian cleared his throat and tapped a slender finger sharply upon the board, causing Cullen to jump slightly in his seat.

“Oh…sorry.”

An impish smile tugged at the Tevinter mage’s lips, causing his carefully-maintained mustache to curl, “A bit distracted, are we?”

Cullen merely scowled down at the board, seemingly studying it to plan his move. After a moment, he nudged a pawn forward, eliciting a disgusted snort from Dorian.

“If you’re going to play like that, you might as well just give up now”, he said, easily taking the pawn with a deft move of his mage. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain red-haired Inquisitor, now would it?”

“You’re just trying to set me off my game, Dorian”, Cullen replied, tossing Dorian a bemused smirk, before sliding his mage piece over two squares.

Dorian studied the board for a moment, brows furrowing in confusion, “I’m not sure now if I’m succeeding.” After some thought, he moved his knight to threaten one of the pawns. “And you are avoiding the subject.”

“And what might that be?” Cullen’s eyes swept over the pieces, the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips, “I thought we were talking about chess.”

“Oh now, don’t be coy. While I’m not privy to the whole story, I can tell there’s some serious unrequited feelings between you and our dear Inquisitor that very much need to be requited.” Dorian flashed him an impish grin.

Cullen merely rolled his eyes, “Maker’s breath, is there not one person in Skyhold who is _not_ desperately trying to push us together?!”

Dorian merely chuckled as he leaned across the board to reply softly, “Maybe that’s because everyone in Skyhold can see how desperately you two need to be pushed together….repeatedly…preferably without your clothes on.”

Cullen groaned, sinking his head into one hand, as Dorian leaned back with a triumphant smile at the bright crimson color that began coloring his features. “Come now, Commander, what’s stopping you? It can’t be the whole ‘she’s my superior’ thing. I at least know that you two were acquainted long before she became the Inquisitor…or the Hero of Ferelden.”

“I’m quite sure she’s not interested in me that way”, he muttered as he slid his tower to threaten Dorian’s knight. “Maker, you’re worse than Varric.”

“Ah perhaps…but, unlike Varric, I’m looking out for your better interests, not just a good story.”

Eyeing him in mild confusion, Cullen leaned back, crossing his arms, “And just how is prying into my personal life in my best interest?”

Dorian fought back a satisfied smile as he continued, “You’re both leaders in this Inquisition. You’re both under a great deal of stress just from the positions alone, not to mention her dealing with the Mark and wrangling everyone’s problems…and you fighting through lyrium withdrawal.” At Cullen’s look of surprise, he turned briefly serious, “Yes, I know. Even though our Templars don’t use it, that doesn’t mean that we aren’t educated on how it affects those of you here in the South.”

“Are you--?” Cullen began only to be cut off by Dorian’s look of offense.

“—going to tell anyone? Perish the thought! That is your battle to fight….even though it might be a bit easier if you had someone to help you through it.”

“Cassandra…I told her that if I ever get to the point where I can’t do this…” He began wearily.

Dorian merely rolled his eyes, “That’s well and good, but you know Cassandra was not who I was talking about. Does _she_ know?”

“No. She has enough to deal with. I wouldn’t want her to worry about this too.”

Dorian’s brows lifted, “Oh? You’re afraid that she’ll worry about you? So…perhaps she could be ‘interested in you that way’ after all!”

“Dorian, she literally ran from me the other night just for expressing concern over a wound.”

The mage crossed his arms, a smirk curling his lips, “Tell me, Commander, how many relationships have you been in…of the, you know, love variety?”

Cullen shrugged, frowning suspiciously across the table, “None, actually.”

Even Dorian seemed taken aback at this, “Whaaat? Never…no one? Strapping handsome former Templar such as yourself? I’d think you’d be beating off the women with sticks…and perhaps a good deal of men as well! I mean…you’re no me, but still…”

“I don’t know how Templars are in Tevinter, but here, we never really have the time or opportunity for such things.”

“Aha…you’re not a Templar anymore. But we’re getting off my point….which is that, having not been in a relationship before, you wouldn’t realize that her reaction is of someone who actually _does_ have some sort of feelings for you.”

Cullen eyed him as though he’d just grown a second head, “How in the world do you figure that?”

“Easy”, Dorian eyed the chess board for a moment, “She almost literally has all of Skyhold at her feet. If anyone else did the same thing, she’d thank them, acknowledge them and be on her way. But you….a bit more extreme, yes? And I’ve seen the way she looks at you…it’s this sort of wistful longing, with a bit of confusion mixed in.” He then burst into laughter, drawing a look of startled annoyance from Cullen, “Yes…that exact look you just had.”

Cullen rolled his eyes, “I don’t even know why we are discussing this. She’s in Crestwood, meeting up with her ex-husband who, for all I know, she still has feelings for.”

“You really think so?” Dorian eyed him for a moment before leaning conspiratorially across the table, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’ve overheard her talking to Leliana more than once about this very subject…namely you, her ex, her feelings, etc. And my magical crystal ball says that your chances are very, very good.”

Leaning back with a satisfied gleam in his eye at the surprise slowly crossing Cullen’s features, Dorian nudged one of the chess pieces into play, “Check…and mate.” Pushing from his chair, he grinned, “Good game. We shall have to do this again some time.”

\---------------------------

_Imperial Highway_

“Can I ask you something?” Alistair’s voice broke the silence they had been riding in for some time.

Hyperia felt her gut twist with trepidation, considering all of the things he could ask. Somewhat reluctantly, she replied, “Of course.”

He paused to take a deep breath, “Why didn’t you reply to any of the letters I sent?”

She flinched visibly. That was one question she had dreaded the most. Fighting back the emotions clutching her chest, she replied, “I---I’m so sorry, Alistair. After the annulment, I was so busy…I _made_ myself busy with everything going on in Ameranthine. Then…once that was over. I thought about writing you, but…I just didn’t know what to say. After I went to speak to Avernus, everything just…well, seemed to fall apart. I ran away….from you, the Wardens…everything.”

She paused to take a shaky breath, the despair and loneliness she felt in those years returning almost in full force. “For a while, I was afraid you would try to bring me back to the Wardens. And even more afraid that you could actually convince me to. Some part of me thought that if I went back, that made it real…the Calling, dying in the Deep Roads….or not dying, but…” Her voice trailed off, unable to speak the horror that they had seen.

Composing herself, she continued, “For a while, I just wandered…hunting whatever darkspawn still remained, and whatever else crossed my path. Part of me hoped I would die…so at least I’d die on the surface, under the sun…not down there.” She shivered, “By the time I dared venture back to civilization, the letters you had left at Redcliffe were years old, and I assumed you had forgotten about me and moved on by then.”

“I’m rather surprised Eamon didn’t burn them”, Alistair muttered scathingly.

“Well”, she replied with a faint chuckle, “He wasn’t happy to see me, I can say that much.”

“He--”, Alistair hesitated, his voice shaking, a hint of bitterness within it, “He had me convinced that threatening the annulment was ‘in my best interest’.”

“What?!” Hyperia blinked, shaking her head, “I can’t say I’m surprised, but what sort of convoluted logic did he use to justify that?!”

Alistair sighed, “I was an idiot. He said that threatening it was the only way to get you to come back to me after our….disagreement. That the Wardens wouldn’t release you from your duties at Amaranthine for anything less. He kept telling me that you wouldn’t sign it, that I didn’t need to worry, that you’d come back and everything would be okay again. That’s why I put in my note. You did get it, didn’t you?”

The heartbreak in his voice was palpable, and Hyperia couldn’t help but feel both pity and anger at his naiveté, “Oh Alistair. I got it. I just thought…you were trying to put all the blame…the responsibility on me.” A faint hint of bitterness snuck into her words, “I mean, it’s what you always did.”

“That’s not fair! I—“, before he could continue, she cut him off.

“Is it?” She glared at him, “How many times did you look to me for guidance? How many times did you lay your troubles on me, expecting me to fix them? You never let me have one single moment where I could be unsure…where I could be the one needing guidance and support! _You_ didn’t want to lead, _you_ were content to follow. What about me? You never once asked or cared that maybe I didn’t want to lead either!”

Alistair’s features colored a bright scarlet as he glanced behind them to see the others now pointedly looking anywhere but at them. Except for Hawke, whose expression was an unreadable mask, one eyebrow quirked…whether in amusement or query, he wasn’t sure.

“I—you’re right. I’m sorry. You just seemed to take to…well, taking charge, so easily that I just didn’t once think that you might not have wanted it.”

Shaking her head, she lowered her voice, “I felt like I had to. Trust me, I never wanted to. If I could have, I would have stayed at the Circle after we freed it. When Duncan recruited me, I thought that being able to leave the Tower…fighting the Blight…it would be all one big adventure. But, the whole time….I just wanted to go home.”

“Maker….even after--?”

“Yes”, her voice was a whisper as she fought back tears.

He studied her for a long moment, then quietly asked, his voice raw, “You never stopped loving him, did you?”

“No.” Something about finally admitting it out loud, felt like someone had opened a door into her heart and let the light shine into its cobwebbed corners, left too long untended. She glanced away, rubbing at the dampness in her eyes, a part of her wondering if Hawke had told him of Cullen’s presence in the Inquisition.

A small, sad smile tugged at his lips, “Somehow…I always knew. I was hoping, I guess, that I could help you forget. A small part of me wondered if you seeing him at the wedding had some part in your decision to sign the annulment.”

“No!” She shook her head adamantly, “It…hurt, I’ll admit. But when Irving told me what he had become…that he was being sent away to Kirkwall…I felt….closure, I guess. That I could finally accept he was gone and that there would never be anything between us.” She sighed, “That’s why…what you said on our wedding night…and then the annulment…it hurt that much more. I’d finally accepted you…as you…not a substitute….and you acted like what they did to me in the Circle…it was my fault.”

Alistair flinched, recalling his angry words of that night as though it was yesterday…

> _“You don’t think you could have told me this sooner?!”_
> 
> _The anger in Alistair’s voice had broken through what had, only a few minutes before, been a blissful silence, punctuated only by their own gasping breaths and contented sighs. Contented sighs that had turned towards languidly-murmured declarations of love, then musings on their future._
> 
> _But then, he had mentioned children. “We can keep trying until it happens. We beat the odds with the Archdemon, maybe we can with this too!”_
> 
> _He had been so caught up in the thought, he had missed the pained expression that crossed her face. “Alistair…I—“, taking a deep breath, she just blurted it out, “I can’t have children….at all. The Circle they…made it impossible.”_
> 
> _He had felt hurt, betrayed. Why had she never mentioned it before? He had always assumed that she was taking some sort of herbs, or used magic to prevent her from getting pregnant._
> 
> _“I didn’t think it would matter! You already said that it was nearly impossible for two Wardens. So…I guess, since it didn’t seem to matter to you as far as…well, being with me…”_
> 
> _“’Completely impossible’ is a bit different from ‘nearly impossible’! I thought we at least had a chance…even if it was a slim one! Now you’re telling me there’s no chance at all! On our bloody wedding night!”_
> 
> _A long silence had followed, broken only by Hyperia’s softly-spoken query, “So, if you’d known earlier…you wouldn’t have married me. Is that what you’re saying?”_
> 
> _“No, I—“, his mind had been awhirl, he couldn’t think. “I don’t know. It’s just…after Morrigan…and everything. I—had hoped….you and I…” With that, he had pushed from the bed with a sigh and began pulling on his clothes._
> 
> _Hyperia had merely sat and watched, a sinking feeling growing in her stomach. “Where--?”_
> 
> _Before she could finish the question, he stood, glancing over his shoulder at her with a look that was both loving and pained, “I just need to take a walk. I’ll be back.” And, without another word, he strode from the room, leaving her there alone with her thoughts._
> 
> _When he had returned, she was gone. Only a hastily-written note stating that she was going to Amaranthine as the First Warden had commanded. And that they would talk more when she returned. But then she was gone for weeks…then months, without a single letter. So, in his misery, he’d turned to Eamon…and made the biggest mistake of his life…_

“I’m sorry”, he sighed quietly, “I wish I could take back everything I said and did. I thought that you were running away from me…but I was the one driving you away.”

She shook her head, “It wasn’t just you. I should have questioned the annulment. It just didn’t seem like something you’d do. But…I was so angry, thinking you didn’t want me because of my infertility….and because it felt like you were blaming me.” She trailed off with a sigh, “I just…couldn’t take it anymore. You never wanted to take responsibility…and the one time you took some initiative….was for that.”

They both rode in silence for a long while, until Alistair finally spoke up quietly, “Do you think it would have worked out if I hadn’t been so upset that night?”

“I—I don’t know”, she sighed, “Maybe if I wasn’t saddled with being Warden-Commander. If we could have just gone away, on our own. We wanted a happily-ever-after, but Wardens never get that.”

A faint, sorrowful smirk tugged at his lips, “Well, I guess you have a better chance at yours, now that you’re no longer a Warden.”

She tried to return her own smile of hope, “Well, from what I’ve seen, you and Hawke seem to be getting off to a good start.” At his surprised look, she laughed, “Oh come now, Alistair, it’s not that hard to figure out. I want you to be happy.”

“Wardens don’t get happily-ever-afters, remember?” He muttered.

“Then ‘happy for now’…or whatever you want to call it. Take whatever happiness you can find. Accept it however it comes.”

“That was my problem, wasn’t it? We _were_ happy, but I wanted more.”

Guiding her mount closer to his, she reached across the short distance between them and laid a hand upon his shoulder, “Don’t worry about the past, Alistair. It’s done. And the future…who knows what that will hold? Just deal with the now.” Her lips tugged into an impish smile as she dropped her hand to glance behind her, “And right now…I think I’ve taken you from her side long enough.”

“Thank you”, there was a renewed sparkle in his hazel eyes as he fell back to ride alongside Ysara, and Hyperia felt like a load had been lifted from her shoulders, as they continued onward to Skyhold.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was originally supposed to be much more going on in this chapter: party banter at the camp and perhaps the return to Skyhold, but...these two conversations just took on lives of their own to the point where I decided not to extend the chapter any more.  
> This is pretty much the start of a big turning point for Hyperia and Cullen. I can't wait to finally get into their romance (Though there will still be plenty going on before it really gets into full swing. I have tons of plans and ideas just churning about!).  
> Enjoy!


	23. Tales from the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyperia and her companions discover some rather...interesting things about one another as they stop to camp on the way back to Skyhold.  
> (Pure fluff and fun...along with someone getting punched.)

_Somewhere between Crestwood and Skyhold…_

The sun sank low in the Fereldan sky, casting long shadows across the camp. Ysara slowly stirred the steaming pot above the fire, while Varric scribbled fiercely in a notebook. After a moment, he set it aside and grabbed a second one, resuming the almost-frantic writing.

“Are you taking notes on everything, Varric?” Cassandra asked as she glanced over his shoulder from where she had just finished pitching her tent.

Without missing a beat, he nodded, “I have to. Do you know how insanely difficult it is to keep everything straight when you’re trying to write two books at once?”

“Two? Maker, why are you doing that?”

Varric glanced up from his notes to gesture towards Alistair, who was cautiously sniffing at the pot’s contents, “Well, here I have in my company the two main players during the Blight. How in the world could I pass up an opportunity to finally start writing about it when I have their brains to pick?”

“What are you wanting to do to my brain?” Alistair piped up, tossing Varric a suspicious mock-glare.

“Nothing painful, I assure you”, he replied with a wink.

“Oh, I don’t know about that”, Ysara chuckled, “Just wait until you read the finished product. All the flowery embellishments will probably be rather painful.”

Varric scowled, grasping at his chest, “Ouch, Hawke! That stung! I promise to keep any references to ‘sparkling eyes of limpid andalusite’ and ‘flowing strands of liquid fire tangled in the wind’ to a bare minimum. Besides, I tend to save that sort of over-blown drivel for my romance novels.”

“I hear the Seeker’s a real fan of those”, Bull interjected, grinning lasciviously at Cassandra who instantly turned a violent scarlet.

“I—most certainly am not!” She sputtered and made a show of adjusting the runners of her tent.

The qunari just nodded knowingly, “Riiiiggghht, if you don’t want anyone knowing that you read that stuff, you might not want to do it out in the open…like in the corner of the practice yard, during dinnertime, when you think no one’s out there and watching.”

“Damn Ben-Hasserath”, she muttered irritably. “It was for…research. I thought it might have some sort of hidden message about Hawke.”

“I already wrote a book all about Hawke”, Varric replied, “But, you stuck your dagger through it!”

“Yes, yes, I already read that one…twice”, she added somewhat-begrudgingly.

“I want to hear more about this ‘research’”, Bull said with a grin. “Did you learn anything…interesting? Maybe something you could show me later?”

Whirling on him with a look on her face that was something between surprise and disgust, mingled with the faintest hint of intrigue, “What? No….never going to happen, Bull.”

Surprisingly, Bull merely offered her a slight bow, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief, “I apologize for giving offense. I’ll stop.”

Her back turned, so that he could not see the impish smile tugging at her lips, she replied, “Oh, I was not offended. Nor did I say you had to stop. Just that it’s never going to happen.”

Now it was Bull’s turn to look surprised, brows lifting, “Well then, that works for me, Seeker.”

As Cassandra’s face returned to a somewhat-less-crimson shade, she turned back just in time to see Varric once again jotting something down in his notebook with a bemused grin on his face. “You’re not writing down what I just said, are you?!”

Before he could reply, she darted forward to snatch the notebook from his hand, her eyes skimming the page, “You were! Ugh! I should toss this into the fire right now!”

Varric’s eyes went wide as she dangled it dangerously near the campfire, “You wouldn’t!”

“Just don’t drop it in the stew!” Ysara said, fighting back laughter.

Hyperia piped up with a smirk, “Oh, it wouldn’t be any worse than some of the things Alistair had us eating.”

He tossed her a scowl, “Hey now, it’s not my fault that we were very limited in what was available! We didn’t exactly have some big Inquisition supplying us with rations or anything!”

“Leliana and Morrigan did fine”, she teased.

Alistair rolled his eyes, “Morrigan had magic and Leliana had…I don’t know what…probably some Orlesian bard tricks or something. Besides, you liked my lamb stew…admit it.”

“Even though there was usually no lamb to speak of in it but whatever random critter Leliana managed to shoot? And it was gray…and had the consistency of wet porridge.”

“But it was tasty”, he huffed indignantly.

“Yes, it was…”, she admitted somewhat reluctantly.

While they argued, Cassandra discreetly ripped the offending page from Varric’s notebook and tossed it into the fire before passing it back to him, one brow quirked in amusement, “I notice that you didn’t mention your cooking, Inquisitor.”

Hyperia snorted, “That’s because I knew my limitations. I’m a fair cook…just not in wilderness conditions. I had kitchen duty a-plenty back in the Circle, but they don’t exactly teach you hunting and foraging skills.”

“For good reason, of course”, Cassandra nodded.

“Right…can’t have mages being able to survive out in the wild if they go apostate, after all”, she replied bitterly.

“Speaking of food”, Ysara piped up, “Stew’s ready!”

“Thank the Maker, I’m famished!” Cassandra exclaimed.

“What are the rest of you eating anyway?” Bull said with a grin as he started to take the pot off the fire.

Ysara narrowed her eyes at the qunari, “If you eat all of that? Probably you. There’s enough meat on those bones to feed us all from here until Skyhold.”

“Whoa now”, he said, backing away from the pot, “Cannibalism is not cool!”

A couple of hours later, after everyone had eaten their fill and the sun had disappeared completely from the sky, leaving it awash in stars and the light of the twin moons, Hyperia yawned.

“I’m going to get some sleep. Hopefully we’ll arrive back in Skyhold tomorrow.”

Cassandra nodded, “Indeed. We should all get some rest.”

Alistair flashed a mischievous grin, “Hey, does she still snore?”

“No—“

“Yes!”

Both Hyperia and Cassandra answered at once, the former tossing the latter a look of betrayal.

“Aww, but it’s so adorable!” Bull added.

“It is, isn’t it?” Alistair agreed with a grin.

“Not if you’re sharing a tent with her”, Cassandra began, then trailed off at Alistair’s raised eyebrow, “And not in love with her to the point that you think snoring is ‘adorable’.” Again, she cut herself short at Ysara’s annoyed glare. “I’m just going to go to bed now before I put my boot any farther into my mouth.”

Hyperia just groaned, “You all are impossible…every single one.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” Varric protested.

“You were thinking it, I can tell. And will probably be jotting down a note of ‘The Inquisitor snores adorably’ in that little book of yours.”

The dwarf merely shrugged, “Maybe. Good night all.” He then ducked into his tent.

“You can share my tent if ya like, Boss. I don’t mind your snoring.” Bull said with a grin.

Hyperia opened her mouth, then abruptly snapped it shut again, her features turning a few shades redder, “I—um, thank you for the invitation, Bull, but I’ll take a pass.”

“Not a problem, Boss. Figured I’d offer”, winking, he slipped into his tent.

\-------------------------

_Skyhold, the next day_

The strident blare of horns echoed over the walls of Skyhold and across the mountainous landscape as they approached.

“Well, no sneaking into the place unnoticed for us, I suppose”, Alistair quipped.

Hyperia grinned, “If I want to do that, I just make sure we come back in the middle of the night. I ordered them not to wake the fortress after dark.” As they guided their mounts up the winding path to the front gates, she continued, “Besides, at least half the Inquisition is dying to meet the famous Alistair, Hero of the Fifth Blight.”

He rolled his eyes, “Lovely. I’m to be a spectacle, then?”

“Welcome to what my life was like after the Blight was over”, she replied sarcastically.

As they passed through the gates and the stable hands rushed to take their mounts, a familiar Orlesian voice rang out across the courtyard, “Alistair!”

“Leliana!” Grinning, Alistair opened his arms to the spymaster as she strode forward to enfold him in a warm embrace.

“It is so good to see you again”, she murmured quietly, before releasing him to hold him at arms’ length. “You’ve hardly changed a bit! A little rougher around the edges maybe, but it suits you.”

Alistair blushed, “Aw, thanks. And you look just as young and lovely as before. What is your secret? Is it an Orlesian thing? Or maybe something you redheads share….since Hyperia doesn’t seem to have aged a day either”, he said, tossing a smile to Hyperia as she approached.

However, he noticed that her gaze seemed to be temporarily drawn elsewhere. Following it, he spotted another familiar face. “Well now…”

Noting his distraction, Leliana turned and, with a hint of unease in her voice, gestured to the approaching figure, “You remember Commander Cullen, yes?”

“Indeed I do”, Alistair replied, a hint of menace in his tone as he strode to stand before him.

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife as Cullen inclined his head in greeting, “Warden Alistair, it is good to see you again.”

“And you”, he replied, studying him for a moment, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Listen, I don’t really want to do this. But, it’s something I promised myself I would do the next time I saw you. And I don’t like breaking promises, so…”

Without further ado, he slammed his fist square into Cullen’s jaw. “That’s for all the nights she cried herself to sleep over you after we left the Tower.”

The entire courtyard had gone deathly silent save for Hyperia’s groan, “Maker’s breath, Alistair, did you really have to announce that to all of Skyhold?”

He glanced around somewhat-sheepishly, noticing how every eye was now upon him. “Sorry.” He cut his gaze back to Cullen who was rubbing his jaw with a wince, “No hard feelings?”

“No hard feelings”, he replied, offering a gloved hand, “I suppose I _did_ deserve that.”

Alistair shrugged as he took his proffered hand, “Maybe a little. You should get some ice on that. Or see a healer.”

“Probably a good idea”, Cullen replied as he released his hand and strode off.

“Soooo…?” Alistair began.

“No”, Hyperia replied sharply. “I already know what you’re going to ask and…no, there is nothing going on with us.”

“That actually wasn’t what I was going to ask, but thanks for the clarification, I guess. You’re more than free to do whatever…and whomever you want.” He shrugged, “I was going to ask…what now? We should probably start planning our journey to the Western Approach.”

Josephine stepped forward, offering Alistair a graceful curtsey, “Perhaps we could get you settled in, first. Josephine Montilyet, at your service. It is a singular pleasure to meet you, Warden Alistair. I have heard much of your exploits during the Blight.”

“Josie’s our ambassador and ray of diplomatic sunshine”, Leliana said with a small, impish grin.

“Quite so”, Alistair replied, bowing to her in return, “I’m sure most of those ‘exploits’ were greatly exaggerated. But, I would welcome a bit of water to splash on my face and the prospect of sleeping in an actual bed for the first time in…forever. Lead the way.”

“We will meet you in the war room, when you are ready”, Hyperia said, “I think I need to scrub a few layers of road dust off as well.”

“Then…we shall meet in….an hour”, Leliana said as they all dispersed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Total fluff chapter that I had a blast writing!  
> There's even a tiny bit of self-insert (me channeling Varric...or Varric channeling me) here as well since I know exactly what it's like to try and juggle writing two (or more!) stories at a time!  
> And did we really think there wouldn't be a little bit of tension between Alistair and Cullen when they first met? >:-D


	24. Threads Unwinding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Cullen is absent from a War Room meeting, Hyperia goes to discover what is wrong...and learns the source of his hidden torment.

“It’s a wasteland, corrupted back during the Second Blight”, Alistair said as he leaned over the war table. “But there are old Warden outposts there…Adamant Fortress and Griffon Wing Keep. Either would make the perfect base of operations for the Wardens.”

“I’ll send my scouts out to see what they can find”, Leliana replied, a faint worried scowl furrowing her brows, “Knight-Captain Rylen and some of his men were supposed to be heading in that direction, but I have not heard anything back from them. They are the Commander’s men, so perhaps he has heard something.”

“I will go find out after we are done here”, Hyperia said, ignoring the faint smirk that tugged at Alistair’s lips. _Maker’s breath, it’s bad enough with Leliana nudging every other day, now I have to deal with Alistair assuming something’s going on every time I even mention him._

Josephine penned a few notes on her ever-present clipboard and nodded, “Then we shall reconvene once we have heard word back from one or the other.”

“Sounds good”, without further ado, Hyperia strode from the room to make her way through the main hall, ignoring the incessant gossiping of the nobles gathered within. She could not help but worry at Cullen’s conspicuous absence from the war council.

_It’s not at all like him to skip out on something like this. I wouldn’t think this would be about Alistair punching him. Everything seemed to be fine when he left…and I don’t think Alistair hit him that hard._

She tried to settle her fears as she approached the tower he had converted into his office and quarters, and quietly knocked on the sturdy wooden door.

“Come in”, the voice filtering from the other side sounded strained.

When she entered, he was leaning heavily upon his desk, his gaze fixed upon the contents scattered upon it: neatly-stacked sheaves of parchment, inkpots, a well-used quill, a cup of steaming tea that infused the air with a pleasant herbal scent, and a small box. She barely restrained a gasp as he looked up at her approach. He looked…awful…his face marred by a crimson-purple splotch coloring one cheek in stark contrast to the paleness of skin that bore a faint sheen of sweat. His features were drawn with obvious pain beneath a disarray of golden hair normally kept impeccably-styled.

“Maker’s breath, Cullen, what did he do to you?!” Anger warred with concern as she quickly crossed the room.

“It…wasn’t him”, he murmured, his voice raw with pain. “I—there’s something I must tell you…that I should have before now.”

Her eyes followed his to the small box upon his desk. It was…familiar, somehow…a simple wooden box, carved with a stylized figure of a Templar on the inside of the lid. Within, there was an assortment of implements. As recognition began to dawn, she felt a pit of dread form in her gut.

“We have secured a reliable source of lyrium for the Templars here, but I…no longer take it.”

Her eyes widened at the implications. She had heard the rumors of Templars suffering from lyrium withdrawal, some even going mad and dying, especially among those expelled from the Order and cut off from a steady supply. She recalled Alistair’s words so long ago when he had first spoken of his Templar training.

_“The Chantry keeps a close reign on its Templars. We are given lyrium to develop our abilities you see, which means we become addicted.”_

This thought brought a sudden stab of dread. _He has been taking it for...Maker, more than ten years now. How could anyone just quit after that long?_ “When did you stop--?”

He sighed, unable to meet her gaze, “Back when I first joined the Inquisition.”

“So this whole time…you’ve been…” She shook her head in disbelief, even as the pieces started to fit together. She had noticed that he seemed…tired, worn-out more times than not, but she had assumed it was merely the stress of his position and everything that had transpired over the past several months.

“After what happened in Kirkwall—“, he hesitated, taking a deep breath, before beginning to pace restlessly before the narrow window behind his desk, a gust of cool autumn air stirring his hair, “I wanted nothing to do with the Order…with that life anymore. Whatever the suffering, I will accept it.”

“We were worried when you weren’t at the meeting”, she frowned, noting that he flinched at the statement.

“I have asked Cassandra to…watch me. The Inquisition’s army must take priority. Should anything happen, I will defer to her judgement. If my ability to lead is compromised, she is to relieve me from duty.”

Hyperia attempted a smile, “I don’t think she’ll have you fired for missing a meeting.” Her smile faded as he turned away from the window, the light emphasizing the circles beneath his eyes, the haggardness of his features. “Is there nothing the healers can do?”

He nudged the cup of tea that sat now cooling on the corner of his desk, “This helps…a little, with the headaches. But, anything stronger would be just as addictive as the lyrium itself.”

For a brief moment, she remembered that twice, that same tea had appeared to her when she had needed it most. She felt something clutch at her chest. _Even through everything he's enduring, he still did what he could to help me._ “You should have at least let them take care of that”, she gestured to the swelling bruise on his jaw.

“I will be fine.”

“Stubborn”, she murmured, a smile dancing on her lips, as she closed the distance between them, “I was never proficient in the healing magics, but maybe this will help a bit.”

Before he could reply, she laid her fingertips, feather-light, upon his cheek, eyes closing in concentration. Almost immediately, the tingle of magic danced across his skin and the pain began to fade. He couldn’t help but steal a glance while she was not looking, the memory of the last time she had touched him like this stark in his mind. 

_The corner of a small library in the Circle, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears, his lips still tingling from the kiss._

He felt his own hand lift towards her face, almost as of its own accord, but as soon as the urge asserted itself, her own touch was withdrawn and he quickly snatched his hand back, self-consciously.

“There, it looks much better now, at least”, she said as she stepped back, eyeing the faded bruise that was now near-invisible against the rest of his skin.

Cullen took a deep breath to slow the racing of his heart, the hand now clenched in a fist to still its trembling. “Thank you.” The words almost caught in his throat.

“It was the least I could do”, she said with a shrug as she raked her fingers through her hair in obvious frustration, “Alistair can be a right ass sometimes. I'm sorry.”

His gut knotted as he forced himself to ask, “So, are you and him…?”

The look of sheer confusion and surprise on her face was evident, her brows lifting in what might have been amusement, “Back together? Andraste’s ass, no! It’s been over between us for…what...nine years now? Bumping into him again now certainly doesn’t change that. Besides, he has Hawke now.” She released an amused snort, eyes rolling “I guess if he can’t have one Amell, he’ll find another.”

 _There’s only one Amell I want_ , Cullen couldn’t help but think, barely restraining a sigh of relief, the constant ache fading away for the brief moment of elation that her words brought. _Don’t get ahead of yourself. Just because she doesn’t want him anymore, doesn’t mean she’ll just come running to you._

Emboldened by her statement, his lips tugging into a mischievous smile, he asked teasingly, “So, just how many nights _did_ you cry yourself to sleep over me after the Tower?”

Her face went bright scarlet as her teeth worried her lower lip. It was a gesture he had always found endearing during their brief time in the Circle. She had always done it when she was deep in thought…or nervous. After a slight hesitation, she quietly replied, “Probably more than I care to count.”

Something about that caused his heart to skip. That he had caused her such pain...but that she cared so much, more than he had ever thought, “For what it’s worth…I’m sorry. The things I said…”

“No”, she shook her head, “It wasn’t your fault. What they did to you…” She hesitated for a moment, then sighed, “I understood why you said the things you did…and why you hated us, after all of that. I just—“.  

She took a deep breath, her heart and mind warring over whether or not to continue. Her heart won, “I had this idea in my head, when we went back to the Circle. I was going to recruit you into the Wardens. Like Duncan said, we…they…could do that. That way you could leave the Tower and we could….be together, like we never could there. But then…”

She trailed off, her face flushing. To say it out loud now, seemed so…silly. The childish wishes of a young woman chasing after the one person denied to her.

“You were going to conscript me…into the Grey Wardens?” He just stared at her in shock, his mind reeling with the implications...with what could have been.

She nodded, lips tugging into a wan, almost sad smile, “If things hadn’t been so chaotic when I was conscripted, I would have asked Duncan to recruit you too. But I didn’t think of it until we were halfway to Ostagar and it was too late. It’s probably best that you weren’t, though. You could’ve died during the Joining…or killing the Archdemon...and now, with Corypheus controlling them. Trust me, being a Warden isn’t the glorious thing the tales make it out to be. I’m glad to be done with it and even moreso that I didn’t drag you into it.”

Again she hesitated, before almost whispering, “Even if it meant I never saw you again.”

He stepped around the desk to quietly murmur, “I’m here now.”

A flush rose to her cheeks as he approached, her eyes flicking up for just a second to meet his, then dropping shyly again, “Yes, you—“

A sharp rapping at the door interrupted anything further.

Cullen emitted something akin to a quiet growl before barking, “What?”

One of the scouts carefully poked his head in, “Oh, Inquisitor, there you are! Apologies for interrupting, but Sister Leliana just wanted to check and see if you had gotten the report from Captain Rylen yet.”

Hyperia winced, face flushing, “Sorry, that’s actually what I came here for in the first place.”

“Of course." The mood broken, Cullen returned to shuffle a few papers across his desk before retrieving a single scroll.

As he passed it to her, his eyes met hers and he kept a grip upon the report for a few seconds longer than necessary, “We can continue our conversation another time, Inquisitor.”

Once he released it, she swallowed, fighting back the rush of blood to her cheeks at the sheer intensity in his gaze, “Yes, of course. Should the others be expecting you in the war room?”

“Yes, I will be there shortly”, he replied to her retreating form as she followed the messenger through the door.

Once they had departed, he sagged against the door, heaving a long sigh. His body still ached, but the weariness had departed, a newfound energy fueled by the hope that Dorian had been right….that perhaps there might be a chance to try and regain what they had lost all those years ago.

So close, he had been so close to just taking her in his arms right then and kissing her like they had back at the Circle in that one stolen moment that had been all-too-brief. _Always interruptions_ , he mused sullenly, _Maker, why?_

Of course, he knew the answer to that already. She was the Inquisitor now and he, the Commander of her forces. There would always be something needing their attention. With that thought in mind, he heaved a weary breath before making his way towards the main hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was kind of a "kill two birds with one stone" chapter in that I wanted to finally do the lyrium addiction reveal, plus introduce some real tension between them now that Hyperia is "free" in Cullen's eyes.  
> I really, really debated making this a "first kiss" scene, but decided (also thanks to a Twitter poll) to give this slow burn a bit longer run. >;-)  
> Enjoy!


	25. Mutual Afflictions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Inquisition plans their next step, Alistair decides it's time to have a man-to-man talk with Cullen.

The setting sun slanted rays of gold through the tall cut glass windows of the war room, casting the map and the dozens of marker pins in a warm glow.

“Captain Rylen has reported sightings of only a few Wardens in the Western Approach at the moment”, Cullen said as his gaze skimmed over the parchment in his hand. “But I have already sent word to keep his eyes open in case their numbers increase.”

Hyperia thought it best to let him give the report, given what she now knew. _He has to feel useful. As much as I would prefer to tell him to take a break, to rest, I know that he won’t. Staying busy is what keeps him going…distracts him from the pain._

Beside her, Alistair nodded, “Hawke and I will be accompanying Leliana’s scouts when they head out tomorrow.” His lips tugged into an amused smile at the universal look of surprise that nearly everyone in the room shot him. “It’s not the company, trust me. As much as I’d prefer to stay here, sleeping on a real bed and sampling all of your lovely food, I can help your scouts better locate any Wardens that might be around.”

Suddenly, something Alistair had told her on the road back to Skyhold hit her with a flash of insight…

> _“The Calling….it’s like a song you can’t get out of your head. When I’m talking or fighting, it’s not so bad, but when everything is quiet…”_
> 
> There had been this distant look in his eyes…in his voice, as though he was trying to understand it…this siren song of darkness that called out to every Warden in Thedas…that called them to their deaths. He had turned to her with this profound sadness in his eyes, touched with affection, “I thank the Maker that you cannot hear it…that at least one of us is finally free.”
> 
> The pain in his voice, so uncharacteristic from the constantly wise-cracking Alistair she once knew, had shattered her. Reaching out, she had taken his hand in hers and squeezed it tightly, “I may no longer have the Taint, but I will not stop looking for a cure, I swear it.”
> 
> He had chuckled, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he’d returned the squeeze before releasing her hand, “Thank you, but I think you have quite a bit more on your plate to worry about at the moment.”

Shaking herself from the memory, she glanced between Alistair and Cullen. Even now, she could see beads of sweat dotting the Commander’s brow, his fingers twitching restlessly on the parchment….and the distant look in Alistair’s eyes when no one was speaking.

_They’re both fighting something none of us can see…keeping busy and active to try and push it aside, to try to forget that it’s there, constantly gnawing at them. The two people in this world I love the most and I can’t do anything for either of them._

“Very well”, Leliana’s voice cut through her thoughts, “Please keep us updated and please, Alistair, be careful. If Corypheus is able to control the Wardens, even out there…”

Alistair flashed her a crooked smile, “Don’t worry, Hawke’s coming with me. She knows what to do.”

A flicker of sadness crossed the spymaster’s features as she nodded, “Of course.” Composing herself, she placed her marker, an owl taking wing, upon the map in the center of the Western Approach. “Is there anything else we need to cover?”

Josephine consulted her clipboard for a moment, “I have word that the Arcanist that has volunteered to work for us is on her way. She should arrive within the fortnight.”

Hyperia couldn’t help but be intrigued. The potential for the creation of better arms, armor and whatever else this Arcanist could come up with was enticing. And this one seemed to have quite an interesting reputation. “Good, let me know when she arrives. I’m anxious to meet her.”

“Bull’s Chargers have arrived in Haven”, Cullen spoke up, fingers restlessly tapping at the pommel of the sword worn constantly at his hip. “It is….slow-going, but they have found a few bits of useful gear amongst the ruins, along with the corpses of some of the…Red Templars. And, thanks to our Ferelden allies, they managed to rescue some refugees who had not yet heard what had happened. They will escort them here when they return.”

“I suppose that’s the best-case scenario we could have hoped for”, Hyperia sighed. “Tell Bull I owe his people a round when they return.”

“I’m sure they’ll be most grateful for that, Inquisitor”, he replied formally, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Well, I guess that’s it for now”, she began before Jospehine spoke up.

“If I might have a word with you in my office, Lady Amell?” The Antivan ambassador actually looked faintly troubled.

“Of course” As Hyperia began to follow Josephine and Leliana from the room, she heard Alistair quietly address Cullen.

“Umm, Commander, could I borrow you for a moment?”

Hyperia paused, a brow lifted curiously. Catching her glance, Alistair laughed, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hit him again.”

Leliana smirked, draping an arm around Hyperia’s shoulders to guide her from the room, “Come on, let us leave the boys alone.”

Alistair’s gaze followed the women as the door closed behind them, then turned to Cullen with a wry smile, “Listen, I just wanted to apologize for…well….punching you.”

Cullen waved him off, shaking his head, “I already said that you needn’t worry.”

“I know, I know….but had I known about your...condition, I would have refrained.” As Cullen shot him a suspicious glare, he chuckled, “Did you forget already that I was almost a Templar too? I might not have taken the vows, but I had enough of the training to know what lyrium withdrawal looks like. Does she know?”

“Yes”, Cullen replied with a sigh, leaning both hands heavily upon the table, unable to meet Alistair's stare.

“Good, she needs to know so she can help you get through this.” Alistair raked a hand through his hair, “Maker knows I don’t know how I could have ever managed to survive the Blight without her.”

Cullen just shook his head, “She already has enough to deal with.”

“I know”, Alistair replied sympathetically, “I relied on her far too much for…well, everything. It’s why things kind of fell apart between us.” He shrugged, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I know she cares a lot about you…she always has…and I think you two really need each other right now.”

Cullen felt as though he’d been pole-axed, eyes widening as he shot a look of pure surprise across the table, “Why…would you--?”

A hint of melancholy crossed Alistair’s face as he met the other man’s stare, “I might act the fool, but that doesn’t mean I actually am one…most of the time, anyway.” The last said with a self-depreciating chuckle. “You don’t know how torn I always was over what happened at the Tower. On one hand, I was grateful that what you did drove her straight into my arms. But…I also knew that I was just a poor substitute for the man she really wanted all along.” He sighed, his gaze turning distant, “I never really knew if it was me that she was seeing…loving…or you. But for a while, at least, I made myself not care and just appreciate the time we had together.”

> _Alistair would never forget the look in her eyes after they had left the Tower…broken, defeated. She had stared out across the lake for a long while and he could see her shoulders shaking with sobs she fought to keep silent. Then she had turned to him with such pain in her eyes that it had felt as though someone had thrust a dagger straight through his heart, before she ran straight into his arms and cried as though her entire world was gone._
> 
> _He had just held her and let her cry…as he did so for so many nights after. Over time, he had thought that her heart had begun to mend as she came to him for more than just simple comfort. But, deep down, a part of him had known…always known that he was fooling himself…that it was a dream that would one day end_.

“I—“, Cullen began, overwhelmed by this revelation. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of guilt over what he had put them both through. But, he also felt…grateful, that at least they had found some comfort…some love, through it all. “You made her happy”, his voice was rough with emotion, “that’s what matters.”

“And now it’s your turn”, Alistair replied, moving around the table to lay a hand upon his shoulder, “Take good care of her for me, will you?”

Cullen slanted a suspicious glance towards him, “You sound as though you’re not coming back.”

Alistair shrugged, “I don’t know how all of this is going to go…with the Wardens, Corypheus, the Calling…so I really don’t know if I will be. Even if we manage to take him down and…fix…whatever is going on, I still only have a limited amount of time left. Those Wardens who join during a Blight…well, we don’t live as long.”

“I’m…well, I’m sorry to hear that.” He sighed, scowling down at the map spread out over the table before them, though not really seeing it, “I honestly wish things could have been different. If I’d only—“

“Don’t beat yourself up over it. We’ve all made mistakes.” Alistair managed a wry half-smile, “Just try not to make the same ones I did, alright?”

“I’ll do my best”, Cullen replied and extended his hand.

Taking his hand in a firm grasp, Alistair slapped him affectionately on the arm, “That’s all I can ask. Take care of yourself. You made it through everything at the Tower, you can make it through this.” With that, he released his grasp and strode for the door, Cullen’s quiet “Thank you” following at his back.

\---------------------

“I’ll take care of this”, Leliana was saying as Alistair emerged from the war room, “If we leave it to Vivienne, you’ll end up in some ridiculous shoes with a hat made of live birds or something.”

“Maker, spare me from that!” Hyperia exclaimed, trailing off as Alistair paused at the fringes where the ladies were gathered around Josephine’s desk.

There was…something…in his eyes that worried her, so she broke away from the others to approach him curiously. “Alistair, what--?”

Before she could say any more, he pulled her into a tight embrace, whispering into her ear, “Take care of each other for me, will you?”

Pulling away slightly, brows knitted in apprehension, she met his gaze, “Alistair, why…you sound like you’re…saying goodbye.”

Smiling, he placed a quick kiss on her forehead, “Not yet. You don’t get rid of me that easily.” Releasing her from the embrace, he lightly gripped her shoulders, “I just needed to tell you that. I’ll see you in the Western Approach.”

Without another word, he released her and spun on his heel to stride down the hall. Before she could mull over that brief encounter, the door opened again as Cullen emerged.

As she turned to him, she noted there was something thoughtful in his expression, but a definite smile upon his lips. When he caught her gaze, his smile grew. Before she could ask anything, he merely inclined his head to her and the others with a respectful “Ladies…”, then followed in Alistair’s wake down the hallway.

Silence reigned for several seconds before Hyperia turned to the others with obvious confusion on her face, “What in an Andraste’s name was that all about?”

Leliana merely shrugged, “I have no idea.”

“I didn’t hear fighting”, Josephine added, “So, I…guess that’s a good sign?”

“I suppose so”, Hyperia said with a shrug, her mind going in a million different directions.

Josephine darted her gaze between the two of them for a moment, then cleared her throat self-consciously, “So, I will work on these requisitions for the Ball. Thankfully, we have months to plan…and secure invitations.”

“Right”, Hyperia said, dragging herself back to the matter at hand, “I’ll trust Leliana not to put me into anything too outlandish.”

“Don’t worry”, the Orlesian spymaster replied with an impish smile, “I’ll make sure you’re the talk of the Ball…in a good way. What do you think of Antivan silk--?”

And so the three women resumed their talk of fashion and masquerade balls, the odd behavior of the two men forgotten….for now…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came about as kind of a happy accident while I was trying to decide where to go next with the story. I'd always wanted to have Alistair and Cullen have a "guy talk", but this ended up turning way more emotional than I'd planned....and I love it. I hope you do too!


	26. Plastered to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyperia spends the evening sharing drinks with Bull's Chargers....but The Iron Bull has other plans when the evening is done.

 

> _As the Inquisition has assumed responsibility for the Mage Rebellion, the Arling of Redcliffe holds you accountable for the losses suffered by our people while providing hospitality to your mage allies._
> 
> _\- A freehold in Rainesfere was burned to the ground when a mage inside lost control of his abilities._  
>  _\- Two farms outside Redcliffe Village suffered crop loss and structural damage due to frost spells._  
>  _\- Five people in Redcliffe Village were injured by lightning spells cast by panicked children._
> 
> _I trust this matter can be concluded without the involvement of the Crown._
> 
> _Arl Teagan Guerrin_

Hyperia rolled her eyes, releasing a weary sigh as her gaze skimmed over the letter. _Looks like Teagan is still holding onto Eamon’s grudges against me. Sweet Andraste, will I never stop being punished for not making Alistair king?_

Placing the letter aside, atop a pile of other recent correspondences upon her desk, she rubbed her eyes. It felt like being the Warden-Commander all over again: mounds of paperwork and everyone in Thedas wanting their problems solved, half of whom blamed her for causing them in the first place.

She could feel a headache starting to form and glanced to the arched cut-glass doors flanking the fireplace in her quarters. Sunlight of deep orange refracted through the panes, signifying that evening was approaching. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her of that fact that she had not eaten since early midday, the sound almost drowning out that of approaching footsteps.

She rarely had visitors to her quarters. For one, it was something of an unspoken rule that this was her place to get away from all of the chaos and stress (though the sheaves of official papers covering her desk spoke otherwise). Also, few had such an urgent need that necessitated making the long climb up the stairs to the lofty suite perched on the highest level of the main hall.

Admittedly, the view was incredible from the balcony outside, but Hyperia could not help but silently grumble over the choice because it made getting to her quarters such an arduous affair. There were many a night where she was sorely tempted to hijack one of the tents in the courtyard after returning from the field because the prospect of climbing all those stairs to get to a warm bed was almost more trouble than it was worth.

A knock sounded at her door, too heavy to be Leliana or Josephine, followed by a deep, “Hey Boss, you in there?”

“Come in, Bull”, she replied, feeling a mix of relief and curiosity as to why the Qunari would seek her out here. _Maker, I hope nothing’s happened to the Chargers._

“Nice place you got here”, he quipped as he poked his head in the door, “Quite the climb though. You must have the best thighs in Skyhold.” He winked, grinning.

She chuckled, his easy mood dispelling some of her worry, “I know you didn’t come all the way up here just to talk about my thighs. What’s on your mind?”

“Well, now your thighs are, but that’s not why I’m here.” He crossed the room to lean against her desk, arms crossed, “Chargers are back and were wondering if you were ready to make good on your offer of a round?”

“More than ready”, she said with a sigh of relief as she rose from the desk, stretching her arms overhead, “I’m steadily losing this battle of paperwork and a drink sounds wonderful right about now.”

“Great”, Bull replied with a grin, “You haven’t really gotten a chance to meet them yet. Lookin’ forward to it.”

\---------

_Herald’s Rest, two hours (and several rounds) later_

“The trees weren’t so bad, but the squirrels….” The Chargers’ dwarven sapper, Rocky, shuddered visibly, his bushy mustache quivering. “It’s a damned good thing we dwarves can’t dream or else I’d be having nightmares about them for weeks!”

“They liked you!” The dark-haired elven girl named Skinner said with a smirk. She reminded Hyperia of a dagger, all sharp edges and deadly grace.

“You should’ve seen it, Boss”, Bull grunted, “Rocky, running around in circles, screaming…like some little Orlesian princess…covered in squirrels from head to toe!”

A hiccupping snort-cough issued from Hyperia as she nearly choked on her ale at that particular mental image. She felt her head swim as she doubled over, caught up in paroxysms of coughing and laughter.

“You alright, Boss?” Bull gave her a few slaps on the back, “We need Stitches here”, he hitched a thumb at the dark-skinned healer sitting nearby, “to give you something for that? Another one of his nasty-tasting poultices?”

“I keep telling you”, Stitches groaned impatiently, the scar crossing his left eye puckering with his scowl, “you’re not supposed to drink it!”

That sent Hyperia into another fit of giggles, her face flushing scarlet as she nearly fell off her chair and into Grim…who just sat in his usual silence, a bemused smile upon his placid features framed by shaggy dark blonde hair, and gently pushed her back upright with a single hand. Bull claimed he was some sort of exiled prince or chieftain or some sort. But there was no way to know since the man never uttered a word.

Slowly regaining her composure, Hyperia grinned, her words slurred, “Drunken mage alert! Someone call the Templars!”

“Oh, I’m sure they’re used to that with Dalish over here”, Krem, Bull’s second-in-command, chuckled, hitching a thumb at the blonde-haired elven girl sitting in the corner.

“I’m not a mage!” She protested, throwing Krem a mock-scowl, though there was a sparkle of mirth in her green eyes. “You know that would make me an apostate!”

“Right, you carry a staff," Bull interjected with a lopsided smile that made it obvious this was an ongoing joke among the crew.

“It’s. A. Bow”, the girl insisted, while Hyperia fought to keep from giggling at the look of utter offense upon the woman’s angular features.

“With a giant glowing crystal on top?” Krem added, grinning.

Dalish merely shrugged with nonchalance, “It helps me aim. It’s an old elven trick.”

Bull merely rolled his eyes as he turned back to Hyperia, giving her a nudge, “I’m sure we could call in a Templar to take care of you if you really wanted. I know of one in particular…well, ex-Templar, anyway…who probably wouldn’t mind.”

Hyperia felt her ears burning, but tried to hide her embarrassment behind a scowl, “Bull!” Feeling the room sway a bit, she pushed warily to her feet, “I should…probably go get some rest.”

Even as she spoke, she stumbled, Bull’s massive hand flashing out to grab her forearm to steady her, “Whoa there, Boss! Let me give you a hand.”

She hesitated for a moment, then gratefully took his proffered arm, “Thank you. I guess…I should have eaten something first…”

He chuckled as he led her out of the tavern, “Probably a good thing you didn’t, else I’d be wearing it on my boots right now.”

“Ugh”, she cringed as her stomach clenched, sending a wave of chills through her body, “Don’t talk about it.”

“Sorry, Boss”, Bull rumbled as he guided her up the stone steps leading into the main hall.

Everything around them had faded into a single blur for Hyperia except a sort of hyper-awareness of the movement of one foot on front of the other. Bull had fallen silent until they entered the hall and were halfway to the door leading up to her quarters. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered the sound of a door opening behind them. She dismissed it until Bull suddenly exclaimed, “Cullen!”

She felt herself swinging against his arm as he turned, her eyes attempting to focus on the familiar figure before them through the spinning in her head. Some small voice in the back of her mind was whispering, _Oh Maker…oh shit…why does he have to see me like this? Damnit Bull…_

Even as the thought came, Bull’s voice echoed in her ear, “Just the man I was looking for! I have some…things to take care of. You think you could get our illustrious Inquisitor to her quarters?”

Before either of them could protest, she felt herself shoved gently forward. In her current state, she could do nothing more than stumble awkwardly, nearly falling before Cullen reached out to steady her. Any apology she might’ve managed was drowned out by Bull’s “Thanks! I appreciate it!” called out as he strode quickly back towards the entrance.

“I’m…sorry….so sorry”, she murmured, as she tried to get her bearings back and extricate herself from his grasp. She felt as though her face had to be glowing from the heat it was radiating. As she managed to focus on him and registered the concern and faintly-amused sympathy upon his features, that heat begin to spread like wildfire through her body.

She felt his hand fall away and took a few steps forward before nearly pitching face-first into the wall. Footsteps echoed on the wooden floor behind her and once again, she felt his grasp upon her arm to steady her.

“Come on, let me help you”, his voice murmured in her ear. Her earlier single-minded awareness suddenly expanded beyond just the rhythm of her feet to encompass the nearness of him…the slight tickle of fur against her cheek, the scent of oakmoss and elderflower, the creak of leather against steel, and the way the hilt of his sword dug slightly into her hip as she leaned against him.

The steady climb up to her quarters seemed to stretch into infinity, but eventually, they reached the apex of the stairs and Cullen reached out to open the door and guide her into the room. “And…well, here we are.”

She could tell he was trying to keep his tone light, but even through the fog in her head, she could hear the unease in his voice. Even though a part of her told her not to let the wily Ben-Hasserath manipulate her like this, an even louder part was silently thanking Bull for essentially forcing the issue they had been dancing around for months.

An impish smile tugged at her lips as she backed towards the door, closing it behind her and blocking his passage out. “Yes…here we are.” Shutting away that part of her rational mind that told her not to do this, she reached forward to grab a handful of the fur adorning his collar to pull him towards her. Surprisingly, she felt him resist and blinked in confusion.

“I—“, he began, his features flushing brightly, a breathless tremor in his voice, “You do not know how much I want this…want you…right now. But—“, he took her hand, freeing her grip upon his coat, to gently stroke his thumb against her knuckles, his gaze downcast, “—not like this…not like…” His words trailed off with a wince at what he almost said: _“Not like Anders.”_

She felt her cheeks burning even as a chill ran through her body at his words. The tiny voice of rationality reasserted itself to quietly whisper, _He’s right. Is this really how you want it to be the first time with him? Drunk and stupid and barely able to see straight?_

“Oh Maker…I…I’m sorry…I…” Before she could say another word, she felt her stomach lurch and her face suddenly went numb. Pulling away from his grasp, she pushed past him to stagger out to the balcony. A second later, the distinct sounds of vomiting echoed through the open door.

Cullen strode outside to find her bent over the railing, shoulders shaking. As he gently laid a comforting hand upon her back, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve and rasped hoarsely, her voice rife with bitter sarcasm, “Well, if nothing else spoiled the mood, I’m sure that certainly did.”

He released a faint, shaky chuckle, “No, it’s okay. Listen, I’m—“

Before he could continue, she waved him off, shrugging from his touch. “No, I’m an idiot. An idiot who needs to just go…pass out right now.” As she spoke, she staggered to the bed and began pulling off her boots as though he wasn’t even there.

“You’re not an idiot”, he murmured as he headed for the door. Pausing, he turned to see her buried beneath the covers, apparently already asleep, and smiled, whispering a quiet “Good night” over his shoulder before slipping out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rather short, but it was originally going to be in two parts, covering the drinks with the Chargers and Dagna's arrival. However, the Cullen thing popped into my head while writing, so in order to keep this from getting too long, I'm saving Dagna for the next chapter. Plus, the "morning after" will prompt something else which will occur after her meeting with Dagna. So, including all of that in this chapter would make it extraordinarily long.  
> Hoping to get it done this weekend. However, the family is off from work and school all next week, so not sure how much non-distracted writing time I'll get. Fingers crossed because I want to get this ball a-rolling!


	27. Visits from the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a rather...disturbing dream from her past, Hyperia wakes to find another familiar, yet unexpected, face from the Blight waiting for her in reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *****NSFW ALERT*****  
> 
> 
> I decided to (finally) dip my toes into the smut pool with the first section of this chapter. I'm not adding tags to the work itself (though I am kicking the rating up to M) since I still believe that if I decide to include any more in this fic, it will be few and far between...and I don't want to get anyone's hopes up, seeing smut tags and thinking there's a ton of it included in the work as a whole.
> 
> If you don't want to/can't read smut, then just skip the first italicized section. It doesn't impact the story as a whole. It's just a little something I teased several chapters back that I decided to slip in (and there's honestly no way for me to really write it without getting smutty).

_The Pearl, Denerim, 10 years ago_

_The room echoed with moans, deep and throaty, interspersed with breathless gasps and the slide of flesh against flesh. A single candle illuminated the darkness, barely enough for Hyperia to make out the familiar form of Alistair as he lay beneath her._

_Over the past several hours, they had explored one another, expertly guided by their Antivan Crow companion, Zevran. The elf had insisted on this visit to the infamous brothel, “so that I no longer have to be tormented by the sounds of your clumsy attempts at love-making every night”._

_She and Alistair had both, at first, been hesitant, but Zevran had proven a skilled and sympathetic teacher. And she had discovered, much to her surprise, that being pleasured by more than one man was something she quite enjoyed._

_Even now, one hand slid around from behind to caress her breast, eliciting another moan of pleasure even as she felt him slip a finger…then two…into her ass. Her hips ground against him, the movement dragging a ragged groan from Alistair who was hilted deep within her._

_After working her in this way for a few minutes, the fingers slid free, to be replaced by the head of his cock, slick with an aromatic oil, nudging insistently against the tight hole. “Relax…” he breathed in her ear as he pushed, a whimper of mingled pain and pleasure issuing from between her teeth._

_Slowly he pushed…then some more…her eyes going wide, a long, ragged cry echoing through the room as he slowly buried himself in her. She had never felt so full…so overwhelmed with sensation. “Good girl”, he purred in her ear…and somewhere submerged in the pleasure, there was the realization that he had dropped his accent._

_It didn’t matter…she was drowning in ecstasy as their pace increased. She was impaled, helpless, her body shivering in delight as fingers caressed her throat, slid to her cheek to turn her face back for a kiss. Briefly, her eyes fluttered open to focus on…_

_…not Zevran. She jerked back in shock to see a familiar pair of pale brown eyes under disheveled golden curls, lips marred by a single scar tugging into a sly smile._

The motion wrenched her upright to instant wakefulness, breath gasping and eyes wide as she took in her surroundings: Skyhold…her quarters, the midday sun now slanting through the crystal-paned doors.

“Maker’s breath…” The brief, lingering wave of pleasure carried over from the dream was sharply interrupted by a fierce pounding in her skull.

Collapsing back on the bed with a moan, she suddenly recalled the events of the night previous. _Lovely, I get falling-down drunk, humiliate myself by acting like a mabari bitch in heat, then that has to enter my dreams?!_ She felt the sudden urge to bury herself under the covers and never come out, but a familiar herbal scent wafted to her senses.

Squinting against the sunlight, her gaze fell upon a tray resting upon the small round table that normally resided beside the plush sofa, but had, at some point, been moved beside her bed. Upon it was a teapot of glazed ceramic, along with a matching mug, a small pot of honey, and an assortment of pastries. Slipped beneath the teapot was a folded piece of parchment.

Curiosity piqued, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes before unfolding it to read the neatly-penned…and familiar…writing:

> _Hyperia,_
> 
> _I wish to apologize for last night and hope that this will aid in your recovery. If you are amenable, I would be honored if you would share dinner with me in the garden this evening._
> 
> _Cullen_

A smile tugged at her lips at the formality of the missive and could not help but wonder how many times he had re-written it before settling on this wording. Her fingertips traced over the neat lettering, not much different from the carefully-handwritten Chantry verses he had slipped to her secretly back in the Circle so long ago.

As she poured the tea, she felt a flush rise to her cheeks with a sudden thought. _Did he bring this up himself or send one of the servants? Oh Maker…whoever it was, I hope they didn’t walk in during that dream!_ Bad enough for it to be one of the servants, but to imagine Cullen being present while she was probably moaning with pleasure in her sleep was utterly mortifying.

She tried to push that thought aside as she sipped at the tea and nibbled cautiously at one of the pastries, silently praying that her stomach was settled enough to keep it down. Thankfully, it was and eventually the tea helped to dull the pounding in her head enough for her to consider crawling out of bed.

Reluctantly, she divested herself of the clothes she had slept in, then bathed, and donned a simple outfit of well-worn black leather pants, a simple pale grey shirt, and a sleeveless deep evergreen overrobe, split at the waist. After last night, she honestly had no desire to venture out where she might run into anyone who witnessed her intoxicated state. _But, I’m the Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste, etc, etc, so I guess I should make an appearance, at least_ , she thought with no small amount of sarcasm.

Even as she entered the main hall, Leliana’s voice echoed through the space, “There you are! I thought you were going to sleep the day away!”

“Trust me, I was sorely tempted”, she groaned in reply as she tried to rake her damp, disheveled auburn hair into some sort of semblance of order.

“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t”, the spymaster’s lips twitched into a sly smile that Hyperia had learned early on meant she was hiding something. “The Arcanist arrived first thing this morning and is just dying to meet you.”

Hyperia slid her a sidelong glance, “What aren’t you telling me, Lel?”

“Oh…you’ll see”, she replied with a wink as she turned to walk away, gesturing towards the door on the opposite side of the hall. “She’s waiting in the undercroft.”

 _“She”?_ Hyperia flicked her gaze between Leliana’s departing figure and the door to the undercroft. _Maker, tell me it’s not Morrigan. No, Leliana wouldn’t be so cheery about it if it was, especially with Alistair having joined us._ She briefly wondered what ever became of the enigmatic witch and the son she supposedly bore from her one night with Alistair. But that dredged up memories she preferred not to relive, so she brushed them aside as she crossed the hall to the undercroft.

It was carved out of a vast cavern beneath the fortress that overlooked a cascading waterfall. The damp chill in the air was tempered somewhat by the heat radiating from Harritt’s smithy. However, the smithy seemed to have gained some new components with the arrival of the mysterious Arcanist.

Hyperia recognized what might have been a rune-carving apparatus, but the rest of the morbid-looking accoutrements set up around the cavern were unfamiliar to her. From behind one of them came a quiet grunt, then a satisfied, “There! That should do it!”

The voice was not at all what Hyperia expected: a sort of bubbly cheerfulness with the pitch of a young girl. When the source of the voice poked her head out from behind the contraption she had been working on, that curiosity turned to surprise.

“Dagna?!” The last time she’d seen the redheaded dwarven girl ten years ago, she was gleefully departing Orzammar to study at the Circle tower; a rare opportunity for a dwarf, considering they were completely unable to use magic.

“Oh it’s….” Dagna trailed off, her eyes going wide as saucers, as she managed to stammer out, “Oh…my…stars….” before racing across the cavern floor as fast as her legs could take her to envelop Hyperia in a rib-crushing hug.

“Warden Hyperia…you’re the Inquisitor?!” Before Hyperia could say a word, Dagna released her from the hug to stare at her hand, “Oh, you must be! You have the glowy hand-anchor-mark thing! It’s so pretty! I heard you had just disappeared! I can’t believe it’s you! If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t even be here right now!”

All the words came out in a tumbling rush as Hyperia smiled down at her, “So you’re an ‘Arcanist’ now?”

“Yup!” Dagna grinned proudly, “The only one! When you learn things everyone says you can’t, you get to be the first!” She paused to giggle, “But, of course, I don’t need to tell _you_ that.”

Dagna began pacing the cavern, gesturing to the smith’s tools of the trade, her voice filled with enthusiasm, “What Harritt has here….the precision is fantastic, but typical thinking…mundane!”

From across the cavern came an indignant grunt from the smith, “I’m what now?”

Dagna flashed him a smile, “No disrespect to the classical trades! But you need a new perspective!” Turning back to Hyperia, she was practically dancing on her heels, “I can’t wait to start making new things for you! And seeing all the interesting things you bring! Holes in the Fade…Corypheus…red lyrium! I want to see it all! Not to mention, I want to hear all about everything that happened after the Blight. You actually killed the Archdemon! I just have to know what that was like!”

Hyperia couldn’t help but laugh, overwhelmed by the dwarven girl’s enthusiasm, “Whoa, Dagna! We’ll have plenty of time for all of that. Just get yourself settled in and I’ll schedule some time where we can…”

“Oh, I’m plenty settled already! I’m ready to create!” Dagna eyed the rack holding the various weapons used by Hyperia and her companions. “Oooo….let me guess…this is your staff?” She asked, picking out an ornate metal staff topped by twin crescent moons.

“Good eye”, Hyperia replied, impressed.

“I can improve it! Just tell me what you’d like! Healing, more power, protection?” The girl was practically bouncing out of her shoes with excitement, “And we can talk while I work…if you’re not too busy?”

“Alright, Dagna…I have some time”, she said, lips twisting in thought for a moment, “How about healing?”

“Great choice! I’ll get started on it…while you tell me all about fighting the archdemon. Deal?”

“Deal”, Hyperia said as she settled into a chair to watch her work. “Well, first off, there’s something you should know about how the Wardens kill an archdemon…”

\------------------

_Several hours later…_

“All done!” Dagna chirped happily as she held out the staff to Hyperia. Several new runes were inscribed along its length that glowed softly in pulsing shades of crimson, emerald, and azure.

As Hyperia looked it over appraisingly, she continued, “Now, every time you kill something, you get healed a little bit! And I added some power…and I thought you might like some fire to go with the lightning you already had.”

Hyperia shot her a wide-eyed look of amazement, “Wow Dagna…that’s just…above and beyond. Thank you!”

The dwarven girl shrugged with a grin, “Hey, it’s just kind of my way of saying ‘thank you’ for what you did for me. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d still be stuck down in Orzammar, pounding out mundane blades and boring armor for my family. And for all the wonderful things you’ve shared…and are going to share…I hope!”

Glancing to the yawning opening of the cavern, Hyperia noticed that the sun slanting through the waterfall had faded to a deep orange hue. “Thank you so much, Dagna, but I really have to go now. I didn’t realize it was this late already and I have an…appointment to keep.”

“It’s okay! We have plenty of time! I hope to see you soon!” Dagna called out happily to her retreating form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally supposed to continue on into the dinner with Cullen, but that's currently growing to the point where it's definitely going to be its own chapter because the more I write, the more I unpack in it. (And I'm still trying to decide if it's going to [finally] be the kicking-off point of their romance. We shall see... >:-) )


	28. Revelations and Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyperia and Cullen discover how little they really know about one another over dinner and chess...and how much more they'd like to know...

Cullen glanced up at the sky for what seemed like the hundredth time since he’d arrived in the garden courtyard. The simple meal he had procured from the tavern was slowly growing cold. He tried not to worry, but found it increasingly difficult.

_She’s the Inquisitor. She’s probably very busy with something. Another crisis, perhaps._

Of course, if there had been a crisis, he and the other advisors would have no doubt been summoned. So, as the minutes crawled by, he couldn’t help but wonder if she had chosen not to accept his invitation.

 _I’m sure she would have said something if that were the case. Perhaps she didn’t see the note?_ He had not seen her all day, so he had no way of verifying that she had or that she would even accept. _I’m an idiot….assuming that she would just automatically come._

Even as these morose thoughts churned through his head, a shadow crossed over the table, followed by an enthusiastic, “Oh! You brought me dinner! How thoughtful!”

Cullen glanced up to see Dorian leaning against one of the pillars of the pergola, arms crossed with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Smirking, he chuckled, “It’s not for you.”

“Whaaaat?” Dorian gasped in mock-surprise. “Not for me? Then, whoever could it be for?” With a grin, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “Perhaps our illustrious Inquisitor?”

“Yes”, Cullen muttered, unable to keep from darting his eyes towards the entrance to the garden.

“Ooohh, she’s late….I see”, Dorian’s brows furrowed with consternation. “Afraid she’s stood you up?”

“No—yes…oh, I don’t know”, he stammered irritably.

“Well, wonder no more”, Dorian proclaimed, sweeping an arm towards the sound of approaching footsteps in the fallen leaves, “for our dear Inquisitor has arrived!”

Cullen could not help but heave a sigh of relief as he caught sight of her quickly striding towards them. She seemed slightly out of breath, her face flushed.

“You see, Commander, I knew you had nothing to worry about”, Dorian said with a grin before turning to Hyperia, “You’re lucky you arrived when you did. I was about to help dear Cullen here polish off this lovely meal myself.”

Hyperia narrowed her eyes dangerously, but Cullen could see a slight tugging of her lips as she fought back a smile, “You had better not! I haven’t had anything to eat all day except a pastry and some tea, so I’m hungry enough to start gnawing on you, if I have to.”

Dorian cast her a sly look, lips pursed, “Mmm…kinky, but you’re not my type. So…with that, I’ll take my leave. Enjoy, you two!” Tossing them a wink, he strolled from the garden as Hyperia slid into the chair opposite Cullen’s.

“I am so sorry. I got caught up talking to Dagna and completely lost track of time.”

“Dagna?” He asked curiously, not having heard the name before.

“The new Arcanist. I knew her from back during the Blight.” As she spoke, she picked up the fork resting beside the plate before her bearing a roasted pork shank and fried potatoes, “I hope you don’t mind if I--?”

“Of course not, please help yourself. I apologize that it’s rather simple fare”, he began, but she had already dived in with the enthusiasm of someone who had not eaten in several hours.

After nearly polishing off half the meal in a matter of a minute, she glanced up sheepishly, “Sorry…I was hungry.” For a moment, her mind flashed back to a campsite somewhere in the wilderness of Ferelden between Lothering and the Brecilian Forest…

_“If you keep shoveling down our rations like that, the entire party is going to starve!”_

She felt a flush rise to her cheeks as she couldn’t stop the memory of tackling and pinning Alistair to the ground in annoyance….annoyance that turned quickly to intrigue…and something more as they shared their first kiss.

She quickly tried to shake the thought from her mind and attempted to conceal her flustered state with another mouthful of food. _Maker, between that and my dream this morning….why? Why can I not stop thinking of what was and focus on what…is…or could be?_

She flicked her eyes back to Cullen who was now concentrating on his own dinner and prayed that he had not noticed her distraction. They continued to eat in silence for several minutes until Cullen finally spoke up.

“Listen, I just wanted to apologize for last night. I—“

She cut him off with a shake of her head, “No, I should be the one who apologizes. What I did was…inappropriate. I was drunk…and stupid…and I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that.”

He seemed to gather his thoughts for a long moment as he swirled the contents of his wine glass, “What I said last night”, he paused to take a long draught before continuing in a low, throaty murmur, “I meant it. Under any other circumstances, I would have—“, he trailed off, face flushing.

A shiver raced up her spine as she felt her own face grow rosy with heat. She honestly had not expected that. She was flat sober right now, and almost wished for the liquid courage she had found in those mugs of ale last night. “I—guess…”, she swallowed, barely able to make herself form words. When she did, they spilled out in a nervous rush, “…we’ll have to find time…sometime…for these…’other circumstances’, then.”

 _Ugh, that sounded ridiculous…like I was making a joke out of it all_ , she silently berated herself, unable to meet his gaze as she took a long drink of her own wine.

“I’d like that.”

She almost thought she had imagined it, but when she shyly glanced up at him, a smile tugged at his lips. As she took another drink to try and hide the fact that her face had to be a rather brilliant shade of red by now, he reached across the table to take her plate.

“It’s a pity there are no mabari here”, he said as he stacked the plates, placing both of the shank bones on the top, “I know they’d enjoy these.”

Grateful for the change of subject, she relaxed somewhat, leaning back in her chair, “I had a mabari once…or perhaps, it was more like he owned me…back during the Blight.”

“Where is he now?” Cullen asked, placing the plates aside and pulling the impromptu “tablecloth” from the chess board.

A wistful smile tugged at her lips as her gaze grew distant, “Probably still in Denerim, siring lots of little Ser and Lady Rufferthords.” When she cut her glance back to him, she was puzzled to see an utterly gob-smacked expression on his face.

“What is it?”

He seemed to be fighting between laughter and shock, “You named your dog…Ser Rufferthord?”

“Yes”, her brows knitted in obvious confusion, “Why?”

“How did you come up with that?”

She shrugged, shaking her head, “I’m…honestly not even sure. I just remember when Alistair said I should name him, that’s what popped into my head. What’s so funny?”

By now, Cullen had buried his face in his hands and was obviously fighting very hard not to laugh…and failing. “You really don’t know? Oh Maker…this is just too…” He shook his head and grinned across the table at her, “That’s _my_ family name…or rather, Rutherford is.”

Now it was her turn to gape in shock, “You….you’re not kidding.” Her shoulders began to shake with laughter, “I….I named my dog…after you…and didn’t even know it?! Andraste’s ass…that’s just…”

They both dissolved into laughter until Hyperia shook her head, frowning slightly, “I can’t believe that all this time, I never knew your full name.” She chewed her lip thoughtfully for a moment, “Rutherford…Cullen Rutherford.” Nodding, she smiled across the table at him, “I like it. Where is your family from?”

He managed to compose himself, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, “Honnleath….though they moved to South Reach during the Blight.”

Now it was Hyperia’s turn to look surprised, “Honnleath? Really? Small village with a large golem statue in the center?”

“The very one”, he eyed her curiously, “You’ve been there?”

Once more, Hyperia began to laugh, “Yes…Maker, if I’d only known…I would have buried her in questions about you as a child.”

“Who?”

“Shale…the golem. We managed to acquire her control rod.”

Cullen blinked, eyes widening, “Wait…that was an actual golem?!”

Hyperia couldn’t stifle a giggle, rather reveling in his reaction, “Yes….and fully aware of everything that went on around her.”

“Maker’s breath, I’d heard rumors about it…but, I thought they were just tales to scare us”, he groaned, head sinking into his hands, “I am terribly thankful that you didn’t know. The last thing I need is to know that you heard about all the things I got up to as a child.”

“Were you a naughty little boy, Cullen?” She asked with a mischievous smile.

He eyed her warily, trying to determine if there was some hidden innuendo in her teasing, then chuckled, “Nothing more than the usual sort of things rambunctious young boys get up to, I suppose. But still, I’m glad that you don’t know _all_ of the details.”

As he could see the gears turning in her mind, her eyes sparkling with mischief, he quietly cleared his throat and opened a small drawer built into the side of the table, intent on changing the subject. “I must admit, I don’t recall if you played chess back at the Circle?”

“Only a few times”, she replied as he began placing the pieces upon their respective places on the board. “I assume you are far more adept at it than I.”

He chuckled, a smile tugging at his lips, “I used to play this with my sister when I was younger. She would get this stuck-up grin on her face whenever she won…which was all the time.”

“You have a sister?” Hyperia asked, a brow raising curiously.

“Actually two sisters…and a brother. He and I practiced together for weeks. The day I finally won against her…” His gaze grew distant, “Between serving the Templars and…everything else that’s happened…I have not kept in touch with them as often as I should.”

After a moment, he shook himself from his reverie and finished setting up the board, “What about you? I know a little about Hawke’s side of the Amell family, but you are….cousins, wasn’t it?”

“Second cousins, yes”, she nodded, studying the board as she tried to recall the rules to the game, “Her mother and mine were cousins. I had three brothers and a sister. I have not seen nor heard from them since I was taken to the Tower.” A faintly bitter laugh spilled from her lips as she rolled her eyes, “But, that’s normal, of course.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that”, Cullen murmured sympathetically.

“To be honest, I was grateful to get out of there. Mother and father were constantly fussing over me, always worrying that I’d do something to attract the Templars. Then there was all of my siblings underfoot. It was almost a relief when the Templars finally did come.” She sighed heavily, “The Tower was always more of a home to me than where my family was.”

He gestured for her to start, a faint distant look in his eyes as he steepled his fingers beneath his chin, “It’s odd, you know…that we’ve known each other so long, but never really talked like this before now.”

After a moment’s thought, she slid one of the soldier pieces forward, “Well, back at the Circle, even if it wasn’t for the whole ‘no fraternizing’ thing, I think we were both too shy.”

“ _I_ was too shy”, he chuckled as he moved his own piece to block, “You were always so confident and fearless.”

She emitted something that sounded suspiciously like one of Cassandra’s derisive snorts, “No…I actually wasn’t. Especially after…what happened with Anders.” Her teeth worried at her lip fretfully, “I meant what I said back then: if it hadn’t been for you…all the encouragement you gave me…I don’t think I would have passed my Harrowing.”

“And I would have been forced to kill you”, there was a faint tremor in his voice. “So, in a way…it helped both of us.”

Nudging one of the knights forward, she sighed, “Maybe…maybe not. Irving…he found some way to make sure you were picked as the Mercy for my Harrowing.”

“What?!” The table shook, toppling a few pieces as he rose suddenly in anger. “How?! That shouldn't be possible! It’s supposed to be completely random!”

She shook her head, recalling the horrible sinking feeling she had felt when Irving had revealed it to her, “I don’t know. But he knew about….how you felt about me. It was a test, to see if you would let your feelings get in the way of doing your duty.”

“That….manipulative….old…” Cullen was now pacing restlessly, face flushed with ire, “…bastard!” The last word was spat out, punctuated by a slam of his fist into the ivy-covered wall behind them. “I had my suspicions when he had me ‘escort’ him to your wedding. But, I never realized that he’d been pulling our strings long before then.”

She let him pace, his own fury reflected in her eyes, “He used our…attraction to blackmail me into betraying Jowan. Said that if I didn’t, he’d go to Greagoir about it.” Grinding her teeth, she released a disgusted huff, “Looking back, I realize now that it wouldn’t have even mattered since I’m pretty damned sure he’d already made arrangements for Duncan to recruit me to the Grey Wardens prior to my Harrowing.”

“Well, that would have easily solved his problem, wouldn’t it?” Cullen growled in disgust, “Either way, you’d be gone…punished for ‘contributing to the corruption of a Templar’ or taken by the Wardens.”

“And he would have made certain you were punished just as harshly, I know. He was adamant about Lily not walking free while one of ‘his’ apprentices suffered. It’s why he wanted me to ‘help’ them in the first place: to ensure they actually went through with it and could both be caught red-handed.”

“Maker”, he murmured, raking a hand through his hair. “I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but maybe it was for the best that the Circles dissolved…if they were all so corrupt.”

Hyperia stared in silence at the chess board for a long moment before quietly murmuring, “You don’t know…how much I had to talk myself out of killing him at the Tower.” She paused to sink her face in her hands and took a deep breath before continuing, “For everything he had done…and I wanted…for you to not be angry with me anymore.”

The rage fled from his face as he strode to kneel at her side, resting a hand on her forearm, “I’m so sorry…that I put that burden on you. After everything…I wanted them all dead…every mage in Thedas.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “Even you.” She felt his grip tighten on her arm as he continued, “After what I saw they could become…I would have rather seen you dead than live with the thought of you becoming a blood mage or abomination.”

The heartbreak in his voice was so profound, she couldn’t help but reach over with her free hand to run her fingers through his hair comfortingly. “What you endured…Maker, I can’t even imagine.”

“She came to me…the desire demon…every day….wearing your face, your body…tempting me in every way imaginable”, his voice was rough, pained as the memories resurfaced, “Making promises…that we could be together…” He released a heavy sigh, “Then you did come…you really were there…and I drove you away.”

“I’m here now”, she whispered, lips curling into a faint smile as she echoed his very same words from but a few days ago.

He lifted his head to look into her eyes, “Yes…you are”. The words seemed to catch in his throat for a moment, “It just seems…too much to ask…”

She found herself lost in his gaze...anything she might have wanted to say, halted by the intensity in his pale brown eyes. Even as she parted her lips to speak, he closed the meager distance between them to seal his lips to hers in a kiss that literally took her breath away.

It was as though the entire world had exploded around her once more. She could have remained that way forever, her arms slipping around his neck even as she felt him lift her from the chair, deepening the kiss even further as he wrapped his arms around her waist, crushing his body to hers.

They barely registered the clatter of chess pieces falling from the table onto the stone ground beneath as Cullen lifted her slightly so that she was sitting atop the table. Her fingers buried themselves in his hair as he released her lips only long enough to trail his own along her jaw before reclaiming them once more.

The sudden raucous cry of a bird perched upon the well nearby jolted them both back to reality for a moment, eyes darting about the garden self-consciously as the kiss was broken.

Hyperia felt as though her heart would burst completely free of her chest, her breath swift as a blush rose to color Cullen’s cheeks, a rueful half-smile upon his lips, “Perhaps…somewhere more private would be in order.”

She slid from the table as he backed away, flashing him an impish smile while kneeling to pick up the fallen pieces, “So…is this one of those ‘other circumstances’?” She inquired teasingly.

As she placed the pieces back upon the board, he suddenly took her by the arm and pulled her against him once more with a breathless, “Maker, yes.”

Pressing her lips to his for one more lingering kiss, she took his hand and led him from the garden, her own words coming in a rush of desire, “I’ve waited ten long years to hear that…”

“As have I…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIIINAALLYYY!!!  
> I bounced back and forth between making this the start of their romance so many times while writing this. At first, I thought I would...then, as the conversations kept going and going, I thought that it would end up running on too long...but these two really needed to get this started, so they made sure that the conversation turned in just the right direction to finally make it happen.  
> I'm so incredibly happy with this chapter and how it finally came out. I think that 99% of my writing anxiety lately has been because I knew I was getting close to this moment and I was so scared that I wouldn't be able to do it the justice it really deserves.  
> Of course now I get to have all new anxiety for the next chapter... >:-)


	29. Desires Fulfilled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten years worth of passions unfulfilled are finally realized...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  *****NSFW WARNING*****  
>  There be sex here...lots of it (and some dialogue because...well, it's me. :-D )  
> This is my first attempt at writing an explicit sex chapter and, Maker, did it take some doing! I wasn't going to go into full-blown smut, but some of it just barged right on in anyway. *shrug* It wasn't intended to be this long, but these two have ten years of unrequited pining they needed to get out of their systems so...  
> Enjoy!
> 
> (One note...slight "canon" divergence in the layout of her room in that the set of stairs actually inside the Inquisitor's quarters are not there in this. I always thought them unnecessary anyway.)

Hyperia strode quickly through the main hall towards the door leading up to her quarters. Her rush wasn’t borne of any need to keep the fact that she was quite obviously leading the Inquisition’s Commander there a secret. Considering that the entire Inquisition seemed hell-bent on bringing them together, she did not care if everyone in Skyhold knew that tonight was the night that ten years of anticipation and craving would finally be rewarded.

Almost as though he could hear her thoughts, Cullen paused to quickly pull her behind a set of scaffolding set up against the wall, his lips closing upon hers even as he murmured, “I don’t know how much longer I can—“

Stifling his words with her lips for several seconds, she whispered, “Not much further. Blame whoever put my quarters in the farthest corner of the keep.”

Reluctantly, they separated, pace quickening as they finally reached the door to the stairwell. Hyperia paused only long enough to lock it behind them before Cullen took her hand once more and led her up the stairs at something akin to a quick jog.

Even as they finally slipped inside her quarters and Hyperia turned to fumble with the lock on that door as well, she felt his arms snake around her waist to begin tugging at the fastenings to her overrobe. As the lock clicked into place, she turned, shrugging the robe from her shoulders to toss it upon the sofa nearby. The linen shirt worn beneath swiftly followed as she tugged it over her head.

Meanwhile, Cullen stood raptly watching her, his normally-pale skin flushed with desire, “Maker’s breath, you’re beautiful”, was all he managed the breathe out before cupping her face in his hands, his body pinning her against the door as he covered her lips with his own, gooseflesh rising as the fur upon his coat tickled her bare skin.

She could have drowned in the unfettered need in his eyes as they parted for breath. It was as though her world had narrowed to nothing else. Everything else was pure instinct, her fingers tugging and pulling on her boots and then frantically at his clothes. Ten years of desire denied made them clumsy, fumbling awkwardly with buckles and buttons that hindered her need to expose the man beneath the armor.

He seemed nearly as flustered, hands shaking as he pulled off gauntlets and gloves, almost desperate in his need to feel her flesh beneath his touch. She shivered as his fingertips grazed along her jaw, down her throat, and across her collarbone with an almost reverence. As his sword-calloused fingertips traced the line of an old scar curving over the swell of her right breast, she was nearly undone.

He drew back just long enough to finish divesting himself of breastplate and pauldrons, then the cotton shirt beneath. She felt her breath catch in her throat as her gaze swept over his finely-chiseled torso laid bare before her, recalling the night he had come to her like this, yet she had fled. This night, however, she held no restraint, allowing her fingertips to slide unabashedly over every curve, her lips following suit to trace the many scars criss-crossing his skin, the tip of her tongue teasing, eliciting a ragged sigh from his lips.

When she wasn’t sure how much longer they could go on like this…coaxing, teasing with feather-light touches of exploration…he caught her hand in his, eyes filled with undisguised need, yet a hint of…regret. “Hyperia…love”, his voice was ragged with desire, “I need you…right now. But…I haven’t…I won’t last long…I’m sorry.”

Her expression flickered between surprise and adoration as she lifted their joined hands to place a kiss upon his fingers, “Oh, don’t worry…I don’t think I will either. I want you so much…” Even as she spoke, she guided his hand down to the waistband of her pants, sliding his fingers beneath her smallclothes to touch the heated dampness of her sex. Releasing his hand, she quickly unfastened her breeches and slid them down to her ankles, kicking them off eagerly.

A strangled moan escaped his lips as his fingers delved through the auburn curls between her thighs, sliding between soft folds already slick with desire. Quickly, she reached down to open his breeches, drawing him forth, her fingers sliding along the length with a reverent fascination before positioning him against the slick opening.

She could feel him shaking with need, as she hooked one thigh against the angle of his hip, spreading herself even wider. His head dipped down to slide his cheek against hers, rough stubble scratching slightly as he whispered in a breathless gasp, “I…don’t want to hurt you…”

“You won’t”, she breathed against the folds of his ear, nuzzling against golden curls already damp with sweat. The whisper turned to a gasp as he swiftly hilted himself within her, a shuddering groan wrenched from his throat. For a moment, they booth stood suspended in time, perfectly still as to savor the moment for as long as possible.

It was as though some vital missing piece of herself had finally clicked into place. She could have remained like this forever, his length filling her, the warm hardness of his flesh pressing her back against the wooden door, his face buried against her shoulder with her fingers entangled in his hair.

She could feel his thighs trembling as he lifted his head to lock his gaze onto hers, his feet seeking purchase on the carpet beneath them as he attempted to brace himself while sliding his hands around to her buttocks, lifting her fully from her feet to wrap her legs around his hips. The movement drug a ragged gasp from her as this new angle seated him deeply against her core, the cluster of nerves there pulsing with barely-constrained release.

“Oh Maker…” It came out as a mangled, throaty whisper, his face flushed brightly, “I…I don’t want to move, but…” His throat rose and fell as he swallowed, the full force of his desire barely held in check.

“I know”, she leaned in to slowly trail her lips along his jawbone as she slid her fingers through his hair, “we have all night. Let go…take me…”

Whatever he had intended to say next came out as an incoherent moan, her words nearly sending him over the edge. Slowly, cautiously, he pulled his hips back, shivering at the feel of her slick walls contracting around him. For moment, he paused, only the head still within, then once more thrust fully within her, wrenching a gasping cry from her lips.

She watched his jaw tense, a burning fire in his eyes as he repeated the motion again. It was as though he was testing himself…calling on every ounce of restraint he could to make it last. Arching her back, but never taking her gaze away from him, she begged softly, “Please…don’t hold back. I want all of you…everything you have to give.”

Her words drove him over the edge, a sudden dark lust in his eyes as his hips bucked against her, driving her back against the door. Then again, the pace increasing steadily, the thrusts becoming harder and deeper until she thought she would be split in two. A moaning growl rumbled in his throat as he buried himself fully into her one last time, sending explosions of heat and desire rippling through her body, their mingled cries of ecstasy echoing through the room.

They remained locked that way, bodies trembling in the shared afterglow, the room silent save for their gasping breaths. Slowly, Hyperia lowered her feet back to the floor, relieving him of the burden of holding her weight, a shaky breath exhaled as he slid free of her, leaving her feeling empty…bereft.

He sagged against her breathlessly, sliding his hands along her back, tracing the ridge of her spine until chills raced beneath her skin. She clung to him as though to never let go, sliding her fingers through his sweat-damp curls, breathing in the scent of him…silently praying that this was not yet another dream tormenting her in the night to be dispelled by the light of day.

His head eventually lifted from her shoulder and she looked up to meet amber eyes filled with such depths of adoration and joy, it brought tears to her own. She could have drowned in his gaze, her heart so filled to bursting that she couldn’t even form words.

“I love you”, the words were a soft breath against her skin, matched by the whisper-soft touch of his fingertips tracing her jaw.

She tried to keep the tremor from her voice, but the sheer emotion surging through her caused her voice to break as she whispered, “I love you too,” before covering his lips with her own to hide the sobs that threatened to break free.

For a lingering moment, he melted into the kiss before pulling away to look down on her with concern, “Are you crying?”

“Yes”, she managed to choke out as she buried her face against his shoulder.

His fingers slid through her hair comfortingly as he nuzzled his cheek against the crown of her head. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

A sound like a cross between a laugh and sob was wrenched from her, “No…Maker, no. I’m just…after all this time…I never thought…this is like a dream…I’m afraid I’ll wake up from.”

“If that’s the case, then don’t let me wake up either”, he murmured into her hair, his arms tightening around her, molding their bodies together in a perfect union.

For several minutes, they just stood like that in silence, savoring the moment, feeling the rhythm of their shared heartbeats pulse against each other’s skin. Slowly, reluctantly, Cullen pulled away slightly to tilt her chin up, gently rubbing away the trails of her tears from her cheeks.

“Are you sure…it was…I mean…”, suddenly the awkward junior Templar from all those years ago pushed to the fore, his cheeks flushing as he stammered to get the words out, “I’ve never done that before.” The last came out in a breathless rush as his eyes darted away shyly.

She wasn’t sure if she could have loved him any more than in that moment of admission, her fingers now tilting his head to meet her gaze, “Oh Cullen….you were amazing.” A faint sparkle of amusement flashed over her golden eyes, “I can’t believe…this was actually…Maker, you’ve never in all this time?”

He flinched visibly, jaw tensing, “No. I almost did…once.” His voice dropped to a near-whisper, “In Denerim…after your…wedding.” He swallowed, a roughness to his tone, “I was so…angry. I went to the Pearl…I thought…I don’t know. That maybe it would help me forget.”

“But, it didn’t”, it wasn’t a question…she could see it in his eyes, the pain and regret.

“No”, again the throaty whisper, rough-edged with memory, “All I could see was you….or the desire demon. I thought that imagining that the…girl…was you would help, but deep down, I knew she wasn’t, so I…I just couldn’t.”

A surge of guilt clutched at her heart, _Maker, he’s stayed true to me all these years, through everything, and I…I ran straight to Alistair after just a few harsh words._ Slipping from his embrace, she turned to walk to the bed, settling on the edge of it, gaze downcast in thought.

She felt, rather than saw, him approach, hovering nearby, but allowing her space. As she glanced up to him, her melancholy turned to amusement, a short giggle escaping at the sight of him, still in his breeches and boots, but now-flaccid member dangling pitifully above the waistband.

“Maker’s breath, Cullen…you’re still a tad…overdressed, I think”, she said with barely-stifled laughter.

He blinked in momentary confusion, then chuckled, realizing his state of partial-undress, “Oh…Andraste’s….you’re right.” Settling onto the edge of the bed beside her, he divested himself of the remaining articles of clothing, then slid one arm around her to gently pull her against him.

Releasing a quiet sigh, she leaned her head upon his shoulder, eyes closing.

“Are you tired?” Cullen asked, slowly running his fingers through her auburn hair.

A smile danced upon her lips, “No, just…content.” The smile turned impish as she flicked her gaze up at him, “You don’t think I’m done with you yet, do you?”

Chuckling quietly, he leaned in to softly capture her lips with his, “Mmmm…I hope not.”

“Good…because I’m not”, she murmured into the kiss, pulling him down with her onto the bed, one hand idly tugging the draperies of the canopy bed closed. As darkness closed around them, she felt him tense. Pulling away, she could see his features turn deathly pale even in the near-darkness.

“What’s—“, even before she could finish the question, he bolted upright, pulling aside the drapery, his breath coming heavy and fast.

“I—I’m sorry”, he gasped, scrubbing his fingers through his hair, “Ever since what happened…at the Circle…I can’t…closed-in spaces, they…”

“Oh Maker”, she exclaimed, hastily tugging back the heavy velvet, “I’m so sorry…I didn’t realize.”

”No, don’t be…you had no way of knowing”, he said, rising to pace the floor in front of the fireplace as he attempted to slow his breathing.

She eyed the bed for a moment, lips pursed, “I’ll put in a requisition for a new bed tomorrow. In the meantime….” Rising to her feet, she grabbed the mattress and began tugging on it, slowly pulling it from the frame.

“Here, let me help you”, he said, moving to assist her in pulling the mattress…and all of the bedding…off of the bed and onto the floor in front of the fireplace.

“Much better”, she declared, before sinking to her knees upon the mattress, one hand extended up to him, “Now come here, you.”

As he settled down beside her, she wrapped her arms around him, drawing him into a gentle embrace. She could feel him still trembling slightly against her. Pressing a soft kiss upon his sweat-sheened brow, she murmured, “I don’t ever want you to feel uncomfortable, Cullen. Never hesitate to tell me what you want…or don’t want.”

A grateful smile danced upon his lips as he rested his forehead against hers, “You….I want you.” As he pulled away slightly, his eyes grew dark with desire once more, a husky rasp in his voice, “I want to _see_ you”. As he spoke, he gently pushed her back onto the mattress, “I want to see all of you… _know_ all of you.”

With that, he leaned down, covering her body with his own to place a lingering kiss upon her lips. Before she could even begin to lose herself in it, he pulled back slightly to trail his lips along her jaw, never pausing in his journey down to her neck except to drag the tip of his tongue languidly against the quickening pulse beneath her skin.

No part of her escaped his ministrations…his mouth nipping at her collarbone as his fingers slid over her arms, then down to caress her sides, eliciting a quiet giggle as she squirmed beneath him.

“Ticklish?” A sly smile curved his lips as he drew back onto his heels, her giggle dissolving into a disappointed whimper at the absence of his touch. He eyed her appraisingly for a long moment, his gaze sliding over her body before he leaned in once more, sliding his palms slowly up her sides, lingering teasingly at the swell of her breasts before continuing upward to guide her arms above her head.

A quiet moan slipped from her as her body arched beneath him, his head dipping in to capture a nipple between his lips…the moan becoming a ragged gasp of pleasure. Sliding a hand beneath her to keep her back arched, the other moved to cup her other breast, fingers pinching and caressing the nipple, while his tongue and teeth worked the first.

Just when she thought she could take no more, once again, he withdrew, eyes sweeping over her flushed skin and taut nipples before bending down to trail his lips down her belly, pausing to flick his tongue around the rim of her navel. Then again, that maddening withdrawal as he sat back to drink in the sight of her body, stretched out languidly before him.

His fingers traced teasing trails between her navel and the patch of auburn curls below as she squirmed beneath him, whimpering with need. Reaching up, he took her hand and let her guide his down, “Show me what you want.”

Feeling her pulse quicken in anticipation, she positioned his hand between her thighs, placing his thumb upon the tiny nub of pleasure hidden between nether lips already slick with need, and guided two fingers to the wet opening.

“This is what you want?” He asked as he teasingly slid his fingertips over the damp, sensitive flesh, not yet entering, but reveling in the sight of her squirming with need.

“Ye-ess”, the word came out in a ragged gasp as her hips thrust wantonly against his touch. A sharp gasp followed as his thumb slowly rolled the throbbing pearl even as he sunk both fingers in, then quickly withdrew.

“Maker’s breath, you’re so beautiful like this”, he whispered, basking in the way she moaned, fingers clutching the sheets as she writhed beneath him. “I want to watch you as you climax.”

Even as he spoke, his fingers delved deeper, curling to find that core of pleasure deep within, sliding faster with each stroke until her body arched, hips lifting from the mattress to thrust against him. A ragged cry of ecstasy was torn from her lips as he felt a surge of wet heat cascade from her.

Quivering, she collapsed upon the bed, breath coming in quick gasps. Slowly he withdrew his fingers, leaning in to gently brush tendrils of sweat-damp hair from her forehead with his free hand and place a feathery kiss along her jaw.

As she caught her breath, her eyes slowly fluttered open, an impish glimmer in their amber depths. “Maker, Cullen”, she purred breathlessly, “Are you sure you’ve never--?”

The flush already suffusing his cheeks deepened, “Well, I didn’t actually…have sex with that…lady, but…she did teach me a few things while I was there.”

“Mmmm…yes”, once more she stretched languidly, lips curling in a playful smile, “The Pearl can be very…educational.”

Before he could think to ask her about that, she reached up to place her hands on his shoulders, gently pushing him over and back onto the bed. “My turn”, she whispered as she climbed atop him to straddle his thighs, his length brushing against her dripping folds.

Lifting her hips, she positioned him at her eager opening, then took his hands and moved them to her hips. “Guide me, love…take me as hard and deep as you want.”

A throaty growl rumbled deep in his throat as he pulled her slowly down upon his full length, the slick tightness of her, combined with her words were almost enough to send him over the edge right then and there.

With trembling arms, he lifted her just slightly…just enough to give his own hips room to move as he began thrusting sharply within her, wrenching gasping cries from her lips.

“Oh…Maker…Cullen….” She locked her gaze with his, reveling in the almost feral look in his eyes as he drove relentlessly into her. “Come for me, love…I want to watch you.”

With one last thrust that nearly split her asunder, a hitching cry that was almost not even human was torn from his throat, his pale brown eyes wide, but never leaving hers as she felt him explode inside of her. The very sight was enough to undo her completely and her body once again was awash with a surge of total rapture, her hips grinding against him with complete abandon.

For what seemed like an eternity that was over all too soon, they remained locked in mutual bliss, bodies quivering, before Hyperia finally collapsed upon him. His arms encircled her as they fought to slow their panting breaths, heartbeats racing beneath sweat-slick skin.

The silence stretched on for long moments, neither wanting to break the spell they were in…simply basking in the afterglow as Cullen ran his fingers idly along her arms. A slight shiver raced along her pine…whether from his feathery touch or the growing chill in the air that became more apparent as the heat of their exertions began to fade.

“Cold, love?” He murmured drowsily, nuzzling his cheek against her neck.

“A little…but that’s easily solved”, she replied, flicking an idle gesture towards the fireplace, summoning a quick burst of flame to ignite the logs, before reaching over to tug the discarded bedding over them both.

As she settled in beside him, nestled against his body, he whispered, a slight tremor in his voice, “Thank you.” His gaze locked onto hers with a depth of emotion that took her breath away, “Thank you for not giving up on me…for giving me another chance.”

“Oh Cullen”, she felt tears gathering in her own eyes as she embraced him, “I love you, I always have…and I always will. Nothing will ever change that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I think I'm as exhausted as they are after that!  
> Next chapter is already planned out and...fair warning...now that their romance has started, they are going to be so tooth-rottingly adorable, you'll probably need insulin. ;-) And there will no doubt be more sexy times as well (probably not as extensive as this chapter, but...we'll see). There will also be a wee bit of angst and such to balance some of the sweetness. It's going to be fun!


	30. Sunrise Farewells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parting is such sweet sorrow....as Cullen and Hyperia discover the next morning...

_Morning light, casting multicolored rays through stained glass…_

_Slow wakefulness returning to senses, registering that something’s different…_

_Warm flesh nestled against him, hair that smells of sandalwood and citrus tickling his face, one slender arm draped languidly across his chest…_

_Heart leaping with the realization…_

“It wasn’t a dream.” Cullen didn’t realize he’d said it out loud until she stirred against him with a sleepy murmur. Reflexively, he wrapped his arms around her, enfolding her in a strong embrace, lips curving into a smile of joy as he pressed them into her auburn hair, once again breathing in her scent.

She nestled against him, fingers splayed across his chest, as her eyes fluttered open to take in the sight of him beside her, “No, it wasn’t.” The relief and sheer happiness in her voice reflecting his own as she tilted her head up to capture his lips softly.

“Maker, I wish we could stay here forever”, he breathed in between kisses, his fingertips trailing over her cheek.

“Me too”, she sighed as she deepened the kiss, tongue slipping deftly to explore his mouth, his own joining it in a dance of desire.

Even as she shifted to climb atop him, a soft tapping was heard upon the glass-paned balcony door. “Andraste’s flaming tits…what in the…?” She grumbled as, through the glass, she could see a small black form, hopping insistently outside.

Cullen could not keep the disappointment from his voice as his gaze cut to the silhouetted figure outside, “It looks like we’ve been discovered.”

Reluctantly, Hyperia rose from their impromptu “bed” on the floor, wrapping one of the blankets around her shoulders as she opened the door to admit one of Leliana’s messenger ravens. The bird emitted a raucous caw as it hopped within and fluttered up to perch on the mantle of the fireplace, a message attached to one of its legs.

Hyperia took the message and unfurled it, her expression changing from disappointment to amusement as she read, a faint rueful chuckle escaping her lips as the raven gave one last squawk before flying back out into the wintery morning air.

“What is it?” he asked as she closed the door, then settled back down onto the mattress beside him, passing him the slip of parchment. His reaction mirrored hers as he skimmed over Leliana’s neatly-penned script…

_We have word back from the Western Approach. Calling a War Council immediately._

_Come as soon as you and the Commander can manage to get out of bed._

“Looks like I was right about the ‘being discovered’ part”, he said with a smirk as he draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to nestle against him.

A smile danced over her lips as she snuggled into his embrace, enjoying the warmth his body radiated, “That’s Leliana for you…she misses nothing that goes on. Not to mention, she was your biggest advocate, constantly prodding me into giving you another chance when I still thought you were a mage-hating jerk.”

“Really?” His brows lifted in surprise, gaze turning thoughtful, “Then I definitely owe her a quite a bit of thanks.”

“Get her a fruit basket. According to Dorian, everyone loves those”, Hyperia released a contented sigh, yet her next words were laced with disappointment, “I suppose this means we need to get up and get ready for the war council.”

“Unfortunately, duty calls”, Cullen replied, pressing another kiss upon the crown of her head before reluctantly disengaging from the embrace to rise and begin gathering his clothes and armor from where they had been haphazardly tossed the night before.

“Do you mind if I--?” he queried, gesturing to the washroom.

“Not at all”, she replied with the faint hint of a sly smile upon her lips, “Everything that is mine, is yours.”

His features flushed at the innuendo…and the memory of the previous night…as he ducked into the washroom. As he got cleaned up, she procured a new set of clothing from the dresser and began gathering up the scattered remnants of yesterday’s attire.

A few moments later, Cullen emerged from the washroom, dressed and once again appearing as the Inquisition’s capable Commander…with the exception of the damp, unruly curls that apparently refused to return to their usual style. Something about that made her smile…it reminded her of the young Templar she’d fallen for back in the Circle all those years ago.

Pausing to press a kiss to his cheek, even as he raked his hand through the curls self-consciously, she murmured, “You look fine…leave it.” Flashing him a grin, she continued into the washroom to get dressed and cleaned up.

Once finished, she opened the door and was immediately intercepted by Cullen who swept her into his arms and crushed his lips to hers, murmuring against them, “You don’t know how much willpower it took for me not to come in there with you.”

A shiver raced down her spine at the heat behind his words, “I wish you would have”, she purred, nipping at his lower lip teasingly.

Slowly, he released her with a soft nip upon her ear, “It was tempting, but I’m afraid Sister Leliana might send troops with a battering ram to your door if we take too long.”

“Good point”, she acquiesced reluctantly as her gaze darted to the door to her quarters. “Should I go first, or--?”

Cullen chuckled, “If my instincts are correct, I’ll be rather surprised if most of Skyhold isn’t gathered outside, waiting to shower us with applause.”

Her face flushed as a groan escaped her lips, “Oh Maker, I hope not.” Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she unlocked the door and led him down the stairs. As they reached the door to the main hall, she paused to listen, “I don’t hear anyone out there.”

“Thank the Maker for small blessings, then”, he replied, though she could feel that he was as tense as she was as she unlocked the door and cautiously swung it open.

The main hall was mostly empty aside from the usual subdued bustle of servants and visiting nobility, and Hyperia tossed him an amused smirk, “Do I need to start second-guessing your instincts, Commander?”

He shrugged, looking as amazed as she was as his gaze scanned the vast hall warily, “Perhaps. Though maybe I should not be surprised that Leliana did not make a spectacle out of it. She is rather adept at keeping a person off-balance.”

Not wishing to read too much into it, Hyperia shrugged as well before turning to make her way towards the War Room. Again, they were both surprised to find the hallway and Josephine’s office area empty. Cullen strode forward to cautiously open the massive doors to the War Room, standing in front of Hyperia almost protectively. However, they were both relieved to find Josephine and Leliana alone in the room, chatting quietly over silver platters of Antivan kaffe, tea and pastries.

“Ah, there you are! I was afraid we were going to have to send out a search party!” Leliana declared, a sly gleam in her pale blue eyes.

Hyperia merely smirked as she approached the table at Cullen’s side, “Wasn’t that what Ser Squawk was supposed to be?”

“Oh, he was just the advance scout”, the red-haired spymaster retorted playfully, “I would have sent Cole in next.”

Hyperia couldn’t repress the shudder that ran down her spine at that, her gaze flicking to Cullen who looked just as disturbed for a brief moment. While she rather liked the strange spirit boy who had joined them, she had to admit his knack for coming and going unseen was a bit…disturbing.

“I’m kidding”, Leliana chuckled as she noted their wary looks. “Have some breakfast before we get started. I’m sure you two are…famished.” A soft titter escaped from Josephine at this, who blushed and pretended to busy herself with her clipboard.

“Maker’s breath”, Cullen muttered as he moved to his usual spot at the table, directly across from Hyperia. “Are we never going to hear the end of this?”

“Not any time soon”, Leliana replied with a smug grin, “You can’t blame me for admiring my own handiwork, after all.”

“Oh, it wasn’t just you”, Cullen chuckled as he poured a cup of tea, “Dorian did his fair share of poking and prodding. Unless that was you pulling his strings as well.”

“Ah, I can’t claim credit for that. Dorian is definitely his own man whose strings are pulled by no one, except maybe himself.” After taking a sip of her own tea, Leliana continued, “Anyway, on to business?”

“By all means”, Cullen replied as Hyperia gratefully sipped her kaffe while nibbling on a croissant.

Taking one of the parchments littering the table in hand, Leliana frowned down at the script written upon it, the teasing friend instantly replaced by the business-like spymaster, “We have word back from Alistair and Hawke in the Western Approach. Apparently, there is a large group of Wardens heading for an old, abandoned Warden fortress. No doubt this ‘ritual site’ he had mentioned before. We will need to send a party there as soon as possible if we want to intercept them before they do….whatever it is they’re planning.”

Hyperia tried to hide her disappointment behind another sip of kaffe as Cullen frowned, “Have you heard anything back from Knight-Captain Rylen and his men? They should be in place by now.”

Leliana nodded, though not without a faint sympathetic glance to them both, “Yes, but they are scouting out another, larger Warden keep that is also a potential target. He is one of your men, Commander, but I would suggest not relocating them just in case there is activity in his area as well.”

Cullen heaved a rueful sigh, nodding, “No, you’re right. He needs to stay put. There’s nothing to say they won’t hit both sites.”

“Alright”, Hyperia sighed after washing down the last of her croissant with one more swig of kaffe, “I’ll gather who we need and get ready to head out. It’s a long way to the Western Approach.”

“Oh, before you go”, Leliana interjected, “make sure you speak to Dorian. He has supposedly finally perfected that ‘quick travel’ spell he was working on with Alexius.”

“Thank the Maker!” She could not help but exclaim, “That will make things so much easier. Provided it doesn’t turn us inside-out or cause some hole in time or…”

“Stop worrying!” The spymaster said with a smile, “You think I haven’t had my people watching them both to make sure this isn’t some elaborate Venatori plot?”

“Well, that is what we pay you for, right?” Hyperia quipped playfully.

A sly smile curved the spymaster’s lips, her pale grey eyes twinkling with mirth, “I suppose…and to tease you relentlessly about how stubborn and completely oblivious you are sometimes when it comes to love.”

“You do that for free, I think”, Hyperia chuckled while Cullen rolled his eyes and Josephine tried…unsuccessfully…to restrain another giggle.

“I should ask you to start paying me, since it’s a full-time job of itself”, she smirked as she placed Hyperia’s map marker…the symbol of the Inquisition, enchanted with a green sparkling glow reflecting the mark…upon the Western Approach.

“Well, I think you’re out of a job now that I’ve finally come to my senses”, Hyperia replied, flashing a smile across the table to Cullen, who flushed brightly.

“Indeed”, Leliana smiled, giving Cullen a playful nudge, “It’s about damn time, I say.” Gathering one of the empty breakfast trays, she circled around him to nudge Josie, “And with that, we’ll leave you to get ready for your journey.”

“Have a pleasant trip”, the Antivan ambassador tossed over her shoulder with a wink as Leliana led her from the room.

As the doors closed behind the two women, Cullen sighed, “Well, we knew this would happen sooner or later.”

“I much would have preferred ‘later’, myself”, Hyperia muttered irritably, her gaze fixed upon the map spread before them as Cullen circled around the table to stand behind her, his arms wrapping her in a quiet embrace.

“Me too”, the words whispered into her hair as he nuzzled his cheek against her neck. “But, duty calls…as always.”

For several minutes, they just stood there, basking in one another’s presence before Cullen stepped away reluctantly, one hand delving into his pocket. “Before you go…”

Hyperia turned, her gaze drawn down to a faint glimmer of silver in his hand, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she saw what he held: a simple coin, bearing the likeness of Andraste, pierced and threaded upon a well-worn cord of leather. The sight of it, brought memories over a decade old surging to the fore…

> _That same necklace, hung around her throat by his trembling hands…”In case you ever are able to leave the Tower…” Her own voice quavering in reply, “I will always have this part of you with me.”_
> 
> _Fingers rubbing the coin for comfort as she awaits the Joining…her thoughts of him steeling her resolve…_
> 
> _Despair, panic, as he does not recognize her in his battered, tortured state…again, pulling forth the pendant to prove it really is her, not another demonic illusion…_
> 
> _But still he hates, spits anger at her…at all mages…_
> 
> _Tears barely restrained as she removes it from her throat as they depart the Tower, leaving it for him to find…heart sinking as she relinquishes the last reminder of him…and what they might have had…_

“You…still have it?” It took every ounce of willpower she had to hold back the tears, her voice cracking.

A tender smile tugged at his lips as he nodded, leaning in to once again, hang it around her neck. “I had always hoped…one day, I could give it back to you.”

With that, she threw herself into his arms, no longer holding back the sobs that shook her shoulders, “I never thought…I’d ever see it…or you again.”

He held her tightly, one hand stroking her hair, “I told you it was for luck, remember?”

A faint broken chuckle shook her body, “All things considered…The Blight, Kirkwall, the Conclave, the Breach…I’m not sure if it worked.”

"I could’ve died during any of those”, he replied with a quiet sigh before gently tilting her head up to meet his gaze, “But I didn’t…and you’re here…beyond all hope and reason. I don’t think I could have gotten much luckier than that.”

“We were both lucky as far as all that’s concerned”, she huffed a rueful sigh of her own, “I just hope it holds out through all of this.”

“You’ll be fine”, he reassured her, pulling her back into his embrace, “You have to be.”

Hearing the worry in his voice, she smiled, “Don’t worry, Cullen, I’ll always come back to you.”

“I always worry. I have since the day you fell out of that rift.’ His arms tightened around her, his cheek coming to rest upon the crown of her head, “I just never let myself show it.”

“I’m coming back, I promise”. Leaning up, she covered his mouth with hers, devouring his lips in a kiss that sent shivers down his spine.

He clutched her to him, melting into the kiss, fingers sweeping through her hair before she reluctantly parted, leaving him breathless, “I…should probably get ready to go. The sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll be back.”

“You’re right”, he sighed, pressing one last kiss to her forehead, “I will miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too”, a smile curved her lips as she rubbed the coin pendant between her fingers, “But I’ll always have a part of you with me to keep me safe, at least.” With that, she turned and strode from the War Room, leaving him to watch her go…and praying, as he always did, that it would not be the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I kind of....*cough* blew my load *cough*...on that last chapter. This one didn't quite come out like I'd planned, but it still retains some of the gooshy-sweetness I was aiming for. I almost went smutty for this one too (Goodbye sex on the war table anyone?), but decided not to because I'm trying to keep the naughty bits to a reasonable level.  
> Since I'm feeling a little more comfortable writing it now (thanks to everyone's wonderful compliments!), I'm pondering creating a new work of smutty one-shots (since I do have lots and lots of naughty scenes for them in my brain).  
> Anyway...back to business for these two as we get closer to Adamant. *screams* I think I've worked out how I'm going to write it. It won't be as heart-breaking as the game, but there will still be some tension and angst. (Provided I don't change my mind...again.)


	31. Tearing Down the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyperia gains new insight from Cassandra about Cullen, then joins Alistair and Hawke in the painful task of confronting the Grey Wardens.

_“You know the fade step spell, right? Well, this is going to feel…about a hundred times worse the first few times or so.”_

Dorian’s words echoed in Hyperia’s mind as she fell to her knees, emptying what was left of her breakfast onto the warm sands of the Western Approach. She felt as though she had been turned inside-out and thrown against a wall several times, tied into a knot, and then turned right-side-out again.

_Maker, I’d almost take spending two weeks on a horse before doing this again._

The spell itself had been simple and straightforward: she simply needed to cast it while visualizing the runestone corresponding to their destination and it would use a combination of Alexius’ time warp and fade step to cover the distance in a matter of seconds. For the rest of her party, they just closed their eyes and went along for the ride…but she was the one “driving”, so to speak, so she had to experience the entire mind-bending and stomach-twisting journey with eyes wide open to ensure they reached their mark. It was probably the least pleasant experience of her life.

From what seemed like a great distance away, she could hear Cassandra’s voice and felt herself being gently leveraged upright on legs that refused to work. “Come, you need to recover.”

Her face felt numb, but somehow she managed to mumble out, “Need to get to Alistair and Hawke. Can’t wait.”

“Yes, yes you can.” Through a hazy gray mist, she felt herself being laid down…no doubt upon a cot at the Inquisition’s scouting camp. “You’re not going anywhere in this shape.”

Hyperia wanted to protest, but bit it back as the room spun around her and she weakly managed to lean over the edge of the cot, dry-heaving. “Okay…don’t ever…want to…do that…again.”

A moment later, a small glass vial was pressed into her hand, the distinct shimmer of blue visible within. As clarity slowly tried to reassert itself, she vaguely remembered his Dorian’s warning before they left:

_“The spell is going to take a lot out of you. You’re going to want to take a hit of lyrium beforehand. But I don’t want you to overdo it, just in case. I know it sounds contradictory, but you’ll burn yourself out faster if you try to over-compensate. Just make sure to have some on hand on the other side to replenish what you’ve lost.”_

Gratefully, she popped the cap on the vial and tossed back the contents, feeling the lyrium burn its way down her throat. Slowly, the feeling began to return to her limbs, a tingling akin to pins and needles spreading through her as she felt her energy begin to return.

“Just take your time”, the familiar Nevarren accent came from where Cassandra was sitting on the cot next to hers, appraising her under a watchful gaze. “We obviously arrived here much earlier than would be expected.”

Hyperia winced as she leveraged herself semi-upright and the room took another slight spin, “That’s because we needed to get here as quickly as possible. The longer we wait, the more chances are that the Wardens will complete the ritual or…whatever it is they’re doing.”

“I talked to Scout Beryl and the last word she had from them said that the Wardens are still at least a few hours out, so you still have time. There is little point in rushing over there if you can barely even stand.” As she spoke, the Seeker laid a hand gently on her shoulder and pushed her with a firmness that Hyperia could not resist in her current state back onto the cot.

“Fine”, Hyperia sighed, “You’re a terrible nursemaid, though.”

“So I’ve been told”, Cassandra replied dryly, her gaze darting away as Hyperia shot her a curious glance. After a moment, the Seeker finally heaved a sigh, “Since we are stuck here for the time being…and I know that he is far too stubborn to tell you himself…” She trailed off with an almost imperceptible wince, as though already regretting her words.

“This is about Cullen, isn’t it?” Hyperia asked, brows furrowing in concern, “He told me that he’d stopped taking lyrium…and that you were ‘watching’ him.”

“Yes”, Cassandra stated simply, again seeming to pause for thought before continuing, “I do not know how much you are aware of what a Seeker actually does.”

“To be honest….little to nothing, aside from that they’re some sort of offshoot of the Templars.”

“That is…only partially true”, Cassandra replied, “We are…were…tasked with overseeing the Templars, with rooting out corruption in the ranks.”

“So…it makes sense…you would know…” Hyperia murmured thoughtfully.

“Yes, even though we do not take lyrium ourselves, we know its effects and how to deal with them. He knew I could evaluate the dangers and give an objective assessment on his…condition.” She trailed off for a moment, her gaze turning distant, “Since you arrived, there have been….bad days. But they have been far from the worst of it. The journey to Haven from Kirkwall was…” She sighed heavily, “I honestly did not think he would make it.”

Cassandra darted her gaze to Hyperia, eyes narrowing slightly, “I do not say this to cause you pain or guilt…but your arrival…it did not help.” Before Hyperia could say a word, Cassandra waved her off, “No, let me finish. It did not help…at first. Lyrium dulls memories...both good and bad. Without it, they all come crashing back. So…you appearing in the middle of all this…It was a double-edged sword of sorts. All of those memories he’d been fighting against…you brought them back.”

“Maker…if I could have changed that, I would”, Hyperia replied, a slight edge to her voice. The guilt cut deeply, but at the same time, she felt a tinge of resentment for Cassandra bringing this upon her as though she had a choice in the matter.

“I know”, Cassandra laid a hand lightly upon her shoulder, “But good has come of it as well. When he was going through some of the worst of it, his regret over the things he said to you was very strong. He even said that if he died, that I had to promise that I’d find some way to tell you. But now that you’re here, he was able to mend that guilt and at least heal that part of himself a little.”

The Seeker grew quiet for a long moment, letting Hyperia take it all in, then turned back to her with a stern visage, “I do not want you to think this will be easy, however. Lyrium withdrawal is something that one never really fully recovers from. And he will try to hide it from you…as he does from everyone.”

With a faintly wry smile, Hyperia finished the unspoken part of the sentence, “Everyone except you.”

Cassandra merely shrugged, “Because he knows he can’t. I was the only one who knew what he had planned when we left Kirkwall. I spoke against it…I thought it was unwise for him to try to deal with that during our journey to Haven, but he insisted. So, I abided by his decision under the condition that he would abide by my rules.”

“And has he?” Even as she asked the question, Hyperia already knew the answer.

Cassandra released a faint snort of laughter, “Of course not. The man is stubborn to a fault. But, that stubbornness is what has gotten him through…well, not only that, but everything else he’s endured. So, I cannot condemn him for it too harshly.”

Hearing the admiration in the Seeker’s voice, Hyperia’s lips tugged into a faint smile, “You…respect him…quite a bit.”

“I do”, Cassandra cut her gaze to her, brows knitting as she caught the unspoken question in her tone, “But not in the way you might be thinking. He is…and always be…a colleague and a friend, nothing more.”

“I’m sorry”, Hyperia chuckled, shaking her head, “To hear you talk about him…I’ve just recently come to realize how little I really know about him. It’s…disconcerting.” Her gaze grew distant, “We barely spoke two words to each other during our time in the Circle. How can I feel so deeply for someone I really barely even know?”

“It is…the way of the Maker sometimes, I suppose”, Cassandra murmured quietly, a distant look in her eyes. “To bring two people together when they need each other the most.”

The rather uncharacteristically sad tone to her voice gave Hyperia pause before realization slowly dawned, “You’ve had this happen too…”

Even though it was not phrased as a question, Cassandra nodded, “Yes, It was many years ago, though, when I was much younger.” Her voice trailed off for a moment, then she shook herself from the memory to eye Hyperia appraisingly, “You seem to be feeling better. Shall we move on?”

Hyperia flashed her a crooked smirk that implied their conversation was far from over, but acquiesced, “Yes, I’m sure Alistair and Hawke are more than ready to get this underway.”

\----------------

Her assumption had proven correct for, by the time they had managed to make the long trek to the ritual tower through the sand-swept rocky terrain, they could see the familiar figures of Alistair and Hawke pacing restlessly near the entrance.

“Good, you’re here”, Alistair spoke with relief as he approached the group, then snapped off whatever he was about to say next as his gaze landed on Hyperia, “And looking the part, I see.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a touch of sadness tinging the amusement.

Hyperia had opted to don her Warden attire once more, the once-familiar silver and azure armor now feeling strangely wrong. "Just in case I need to ‘pull rank’ as a last resort”, she said with a tinge of bitterness.

“Just hope they’re too occupied with the Calling…and whatever else they’re up to…to feel that you’re no longer tainted”, Alistair retorted with a faint chuckle.

“Not to mention”, Hawke muttered sardonically, “if their Warden-Commander was going to show up to stop them from this madness, one would have thought she would have done it long before now.”

The statement felt like a punch in the gut to Hyperia and she was unable to restrain herself from wincing at the guilt that it engendered since this whole thing began. _If I hadn’t left the Wardens, none of this might have happened._

“This isn’t the time for that!” Alistair snapped, tossing Hawke an annoyed glare. “They’re already in there, doing some sort of…blood magic ritual. And I’m sure we’re all more than aware that blood magic and Wardens are a very bad combination.”

“Blood magic and anything is a bad combination”, Hawke replied before gesturing them to the bridge spanning the distance between them and the open-air tower where a soft chanting could be heard. “Go on, I’ll cover your backs in case more show up.”

The scent of blood grew stronger as they approached the tower and Hyperia felt her stomach turn as they crested the stairs just in time to witness a blonde-haired mage Warden summon and bind a fiery rage demon, the body of a freshly-killed fellow Warden at his feet. Presiding over the ritual was a weasely-looking man with greasy raven-black hair, a drooping mustache and pointed goatee, who turned a baleful gaze upon their group.

“Ah, Inquisitor…what an unexpected pleasure.” A sardonic smirk upon his lips, he dipped into a flourishing bow, “Magister Livius Erimond of Vyrantium…at your service.”

“Well, you’re obviously not a Warden”, Alistair quipped sarcastically.

The Magister’s eyes narrowed at him, “But you are…the one Clarel let slip.” His gaze darted to Hyperia, taking in her attire as well, “And you, Inquisitor…or should I say Warden-Commander Amell…you were to be my master’s crowning prize, but instead became his biggest disappointment.”

 _Well, if he’s going fall right into my bluff_ , Hyperia mused as she turned to the Wardens gathered, their demon thralls posted beside them, “Wardens! Listen to me! This man is lying to you! He serves the Blight and wishes to unleash it on all of Thedas!”

Livius merely clicked his tongue, shaking his head, “My, that’s such a strong accusation you have there. What do you think of that, Wardens? If you are perfectly fine with it then please, put your…hands up!” As he spoke he raised his hand and, as one, the Wardens followed suit, like mindless automatons. As they turned to face her, she could see a faint reddish glow in their eyes.

“Corypheus has them enslaved to his will!” Alistair hissed.

The Magister chuckled, “Oh, they did this to themselves. The Calling had them so terrified that they would do anything…turn anywhere for help.”

A sneer curled Alistair’s lips, “Including Tevinter.”

“Just so”, Livius replied before continuing proudly, “And since my master was the one who put the Calling in their heads in the first place, we in the Venatori were prepared. I went to Clarel all full of sympathy, and we came up with a plan: raise a demon army, march into the Deep Roads, and destroy the Old Gods to prevent all future Blights from ever happening. It was perfect!”

“Except for the whole ‘using blood magic and binding them to Corypheus’ part”, Alistair muttered.

Livius smirked, “Yes, sadly for the Wardens, the ritual I taught their mages has a side effect: it makes them my master’s slaves. Now that my test is complete, the rest of the Wardens can complete the ritual and conquer Thedas at my master’s side.”

“And any future Blights will rage unchecked”, Hyperia whispered, feeling a pit growing in her gut.

“Yes, the Elder One commands the Blight…he is not commanded by it, like the mindless darkspawn. It is not unstoppable or uncontrollable…it is but a tool. He will ascend to the Golden City and we, the Venatori, will rule as god-kings here in the world.” Livius narrowed his eyes at her, a wicked smirk tugging at his thin lips, “And I will be his favorite after I bring you to him….”

As he spoke, his hand flared with a familiar crimson glow, the mark on Hyperia’s hand sparking in response to drag a hiss of pain from her teeth.

“The fabled Inquisitor and Hero of Ferelden, enslaved and bound, will be my gift to him”, as he spoke, the mark flared again, driving her to her knees. Surprisingly, there was little pain…nothing on the scope of what Corypheus himself had leveled against her back in Haven. Even as she pretended to be brought low by his spell, her gaze darted quickly to the rift hovering overhead.

“For your first act, I think I’d like you to kill that pesky Warden with you. I understand you were once close and…” While the Magister gloated, she slowly rose to her feet and thrust her hand towards the rift, closing it in an explosion of emerald light, knocking Livius and Wardens off their feet.

For a moment, she hoped that it might have been enough to knock some sense into the Wardens, but as Livius regained his footing and yelled “Kill her…kill them all!”, they rose as one to attack with their pet demons.

The fight was brief, but intense, and Hyperia couldn’t help but enjoy fighting at Alistair’s side once more. Even after having been parted for the past almost ten years, they fell easily into their old patterns as though they had faced down the archdemon just yesterday.

As the last demon fell, Alistair released a weary sigh, “So many wasted lives…we’ve always been too few and now, this. Damnit…” It appeared as though he wanted to say something more, but visibly flinched and shook his head, banishing the thought.

Hyperia slid him a wary glance, “You’re thinking it’s my fault. If I hadn’t—“

“No”, he closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face, “You were right…they did ask me to take your place after you left…and I turned it down. So, I can’t blame you…without blaming myself as well.”

“Where’s the damn Vint?” Bull piped up as he poked around the bodies littering the tower’s courtyard.

Hawke ran in breathlessly, pointing north, “He fled…towards Adamant, I’d assume.”

“Damn”, Alistair muttered, “If that’s the case, there’s no way that the six of us will be able to get to him. Adamant is the Warden stronghold in this region. You’re going to need an army to breach those walls.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing we have one then”, Hyperia commented wryly. “Let’s head back to Skyhold and make the arrangements.” _And Maker help me survive that damn spell again…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter was inspired by a wonderful new fic I encountered recently called "Armies of the Inquisition" by [Luaithe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luaithe/pseuds/Luaithe) that follows Cullen's journey to Haven from Kirkwall and his battle with lyrium withdrawal.  
> I decided that I wanted to explore a little of that time period by having Cassandra talk to Hyperia about it...giving her some insight on what he had endured, along with what he still is...and how Hyperia's presence affects it.  
> Next chapter is really going to throw it into the mix in a really extreme way. Must have some drama and angst to balance out the squishiness of the last chapter, after all! ;-)


	32. Drowning and Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra had told Hyperia that living with Cullen's lyrium withdrawal would not be easy, but she never realized that it would be put to the test so soon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Possible trigger warning: Non-consensual kiss**

“Whoa….you’re okay…breathe.”

Dorian’s voice murmured reassuringly in Hyperia’s ear as she sagged against what she assumed was him. The return journey back to Skyhold from the Western Approach was not quite as harrowing as the trip there had been, but she was still quite grateful her stomach was empty this time.

Blinking, she glanced up to the Tevinter mage’s concerned visage before turning slowly to take in her party who had accompanied her back. Bull actually looked slightly shaken himself, though a grin tugged at his lips. “That was one hell of a ride, Boss!”

“You weren’t supposed to look, you…witless…brute!” Dorian exclaimed in obvious frustration. “What if you’d managed to distract her?! You’d end up as part of a wall or 100 feet in the air!”

It was almost amusing to see the hulking Qunari flinch beneath Dorian’s tirade, “Whoa…I did not know that. Yeah, okay, eyes shut from now on.”

Dorian merely rolled his eyes before turning back to Hyperia, “You look like death, have a double…on me”, his mustache curled as he smiled reassuringly, passing her two vials of lyrium as the rest of her party filed out of the uninhabited tower that had been cordoned off for their sole use.

Gratefully, she took them and tossed them back in quick succession before slowly catching her breath. “Thanks. That was…well, quite an experience.”

“As I said, you’ll eventually get used to it. It’s just really… taxing the first few times. That’s why I decided to hang out here for a bit, just in case you returned.” He gestured to the Interior of the tower and its glowing rune carved upon the floor. “I must say that I’m very happy this worked.”

Hyperia turned an incredulous stare upon him, “Wait…you weren’t sure if it would?!”

“Well, with magic like this, there’s so many variables”, Dorian shrugged, “But don’t worry. Any deviation would have, at the worst, just put you off-target by a hundred meters or so. You needn’t worry that you’d be turned to paste or some such horrible fate.”

“A hundred meters off could have put us into a cliff face or hanging over a canyon!”

“That’s why I made sure the target camp spot was smack in the middle of nice, flat desert! Cheer up!” Dorian flashed her a grin as he turned to leave the tower, “It worked! Now you’ll be able to take Corypheus down in half the time!”

Hyperia watched him depart, then made her way from the tower as well, feeling energized since the lyrium began to take effect. Night had fallen, but she had no desire to seek out her bed just yet. Seeing candlelight still flickering through the slotted windows in the next tower, she decided to pay Cullen a visit. _If nothing else, I need to let him know to prepare for the attack on Adamant._

\--------------------

Cullen released a weary sigh, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose to try and stave off another headache. It seemed that his body had decided that the previous night’s pleasure needed to be contradicted by an especially harsh relapse. It didn’t help that there were a half dozen new missives that all needed his attention…including a particularly scathing one from his sister, Mia.

_"Dear Mia, I'm still alive. Your loving brother, Cullen"_

_Honestly, is it so difficult? We thought you were dead. Again. If the Inquisition was not on everyone's lips, we would never have heard that their fine commander survived Haven._

_We've been hearing strange things about the templars lately. I am not sorry you left them. I thought your resignation was implied when you joined the Inquisition, but you meant something more, didn't you?_

_It's a fool's errand asking you to stay safe, but please try._

_Your loving sister, (see how easy this is?)_

_Mia_

Deploying troops to kill demons or establishing supply lines to span southern Thedas came easily to him, compared to writing a simple letter home to his family. He had tried to sit down on numerous occasions to do just that, but the words just wouldn’t come. He felt he owed them something more than just a brief acknowledgement of his continued existence, but trying to describe everything that had occurred in his life since he had last written them seemed completely overwhelming. So, he put the letter aside one more time in favor of skimming over a report of darkspawn sighted in the Western Approach by Rylen’s second-in-command.

_As if demons, Venatori, Red Templars, and renegade Grey Wardens weren’t enough to deal with…now darkspawn. We’re going to stretch ourselves too thin if we’re not careful._

A soft knock on the door interrupted the dismal thought and part of him dreaded what new crisis someone could be bringing him this time of night. “Come in”, he snapped, trying to keep the irritation from his voice.

Annoyance quickly faded to surprise and relief as Hyperia cautiously poked her head inside, “I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

“Maker, no”, he replied with a weary chuckle, “Quite the contrary. I just didn’t expect you back so soon.”

She shrugged, closing the door behind her to lean against the bookshelf flanking it, “Well, we took care of the Wardens at the Ritual Tower fairly quickly. That’s the good news. The bad—“

He waved her off as he came around the desk to slide his arms around her waist, “The bad news can wait…just long enough…” Even as he spoke, there was a strange…singing?...faint, but intrusive, echoing from somewhere. _Is someone holding Chantry services at this time of night? I shouldn’t be able to hear it from here._ But, it was no Chantry song he knew…but still…familiar, somehow.

Confusion furrowed her brows as she eyed him with concern, “What is it, Cullen?”

As she spoke….at this proximity…her lips scant inches from his…the song, swelled, the scent…so familiar…he felt his heart skip a beat as pure instinct took hold and he swept in to seal his lips to hers. It was like a surge of electricity, a feeling he’d been denied for…how long now?...months?...a year? But it wasn’t enough…just a tease…just the faintest trace of that azure sea that he had immersed himself in for nearly 12 years.

He barely heard her muffled cry of surprise that reverberated against his mouth. He had to taste it…feel it…his tongue delving between her lips, hungrily searching for more. Somewhere in the farthest reaches of his mind, he could feel her pushing against him, though he never even realized that one hand had seized the nape of her neck, holding her immobile against his desperate probing.

Even as he began to lose himself in it, a sudden wave of force smashed into him, sending him staggering back against his desk, a brief flare of pain as his hip impacted the edge. It was barely enough to jar him from the abrupt sense of loss, the song…the taste, torn away as soon as he was flung away from her.

Months of deprival fought to unravel, but the throbbing discomfort in his hip brought him reluctantly back to reality…a reality where she stood, staring at him with wide-eyed distress, one hand covering her mouth. She was saying something…

“I’m sorry…oh Maker, Cullen…I’m so sorry…I didn’t…”

Fighting through the fog, pushing back the voice screaming in his head that begged for more…that wanted so desperately to feel the lyrium flowing through his veins again…he staggered to the window behind his desk, gasping in deep breaths of the cold night air.

“I know…I can’t—“, he couldn’t seem to wrench his mind back to a state where he could even begin to say what he needed to. “Please…just…go.” It shattered him to say it, but there was nothing he could say or do in this state to even begin to explain.

A choked sob echoed, followed by the closing of the door and only then did he allow himself to release the ragged roar of frustration that coiled in his chest, almost reveling in the shot of pain that raced along his arm as he slammed his fist into the unyielding stone.

\----------------

“Cassandra….I need your help.”

The Seeker barely recognized Hyperia’s voice. She had never heard the Inquisitor sound so…desperate, defeated before. As she rose from the table and Hyperia stepped into the candlelight, she almost could not restrain a gasp of surprise.

She was visibly trembling, eyes red-rimmed, lips swollen, and her face flushed as though she had been crying. Even before Cassandra could say another word, Hyperia began pacing the floor, like a caged animal.

“I…oh Maker, Cassandra…I can’t believe I…after what you said…”

Taking her by the arms to halt her pacing, Cassandra met her gaze, trying to keep her tone stern, yet sympathetic, “What is it? Is it about Cullen?”

“Yes”, her voice broke and she fought back the tears as the words spilled out in a rush, “I was so stupid. I went to see him after we got back…and I wasn’t thinking…Dorian gave me an extra lyrium dose and…”

“Oh Maker”, Cassandra groaned, knowing exactly where this was leading, “He’s hyper-sensitive to it now. He could sense it on you…and taste, I’m guessing.”

“Yes”, Hyperia sighed, turning away, “I didn’t realize until it was too late. I had to…use a spell to get him off of me.” She drew a ragged breath, leaning her forehead against one of the wooden pillars, “What if…what if he goes back on it again…because of me?! I couldn’t…”

“He is stronger than that, Inquisitor. But I will speak to him”, Cassandra said, though there was a sharpness to her tone that implied that forgiveness would not come easy, regardless of what the outcome was. “I warned you this would not be easy.” With that, she turned and strode down the stairs, leaving Hyperia to drown in her worry and self-loathing.

\---------------------------

Candlelight still shone from the narrow windows of Cullen's tower as Cassandra approached the door. Everything was deathly silent within and she was not sure whether to take that as a good sign or bad. She did not bother knocking, though she had to admit a faint bit of surprise to find the door was not locked, and so she swung it open to march straight in.

An angry growl greeted her, followed by the impact of something shattering against the wall beside her. Cullen stood at his desk, eyes wide with a hint of something…feral within them, and his face as pale as she’d ever seen it since their journey from Kirkwall. “Maker’s breath! I didn’t see you come in!”

Cassandra merely quirked a brow as she took in the broken remnants of the lyrium kit at her feet, “I suppose I should be reassured that you weren’t actually aiming for me.” Closing the door behind her, she pinned him with a stern glare, “We need to talk.”

“I suppose…she told you what happened”, he groaned, sagging against the desk. “Of course she did, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“She blames herself…is afraid she could have caused a relapse”, Cassandra positioned herself directly across from him, leaning against his desk. “Tell me something to reassure her…and me.”

“I wish I could”, he sighed heavily, beginning to slowly pace, “Maybe it’s best if…you find my replacement. If I’m still in a state where the faintest hint of lyrium is going to cause me to do...something that...extreme, then…”

A tiny smirk tugged at Cassandra’s lips, “I seriously doubt you’ll ever have to worry about _that_ ever happening again.”

“No doubt. I’m sure she’ll want to stay as far from me as possible from here on out”, his voice was thick with despair as he scrubbed one hand across his face.

Cassandra merely snorted with disgust, “That's not what I meant. She’s not a fool…she knows now how sensitive you are to even the smallest hint of lyrium and I'm sure will make certain to take precautions against something like this happening again.”

“I still think that it would be best if I step down”.

Cassandra could hear the slight waver behind the determined tone and shook her head, “No. You trusted me to make that determination and I believe that you are still more than capable of handling the job.”

He whirled on her, eyes narrowed, “But…it’s relentless! Every time I think I’m making headway, something like this happens! A skipped war meeting, attacking the Inquisitor…where does it end? Do I actually have to kill someone before you’ll realize?!”

“Cullen, you are giving yourself far too little credit. You have gone above and beyond anything anyone could have expected, even for someone _not_ dealing with this.”

“Rylen could—“, he began before she cut him off sharply.

“No, stop trying to talk me into this. I gave you my opinion and it will not change.”

For a moment, they both stood in silence, almost as though trying to out-stubborn one another before Cullen finally relented with a heavy sigh, “Fine. I won’t step down….but…after what happened, do you think I should….if it’s going to have this much of a hold on me as it is.”

Cassandra slammed a fist upon the table, causing him to jump, eyes wide, “No! Do not even think it! Do you know how much this would tear her apart? To think that she was the one who made you go back to it?!”

“Alright…you’ve made your point”, he grumbled, pushing away from the desk to turn towards the window.

He heard footsteps receding towards the door, then Cassandra muttering, “You had better not be hiding any more of these anywhere.” Turning, he watched her gather up the two remaining lyrium vials that had been part of the now-ruined kit.

“No…those were the last, I swear.”

“Good”, she fixed him with a harsh glare, though her voice softened almost imperceptibly, “I will give you some time to recover, then you need to report to the Inquisitor about this.” Her voice dropped to an irritated mutter, “Before she worries herself half to death about you”, before she strode from the tower, leaving him to mull over his dismal thoughts.

\----------------------

_Inquisitor Amell,_

_First, I feel I must apologize. When I arrived at Redcliffe Castle, things had progressed to the point where I simply wanted the Rebel Mages - and everyone associated with them - out of our lands. Now that time has passed and the breach has been sealed, I have come to learn more of what you represent... As well as the true threat you face. Of course, I feel of the Tevinter cult, which I have reason to believe has infiltrated the Royal Palace in Denerim. Seeing as the Inquisition knows far more about them, I would ask for your assistance in hunting down these spies before they do here what they did in Redcliffe. All of Fereldan would be grateful._

_Queen Anora Theirin_

Hyperia read over the missive from Anora with a frown as she paced restlessly across the War Room floor. She barely saw the words. The constant irritation that even reading Anora's arrogant words brought served as well as anything to try and distract her while she waited for Cullen to arrive. While she would have much preferred to speak to him somewhere less…official, Cassandra had insisted that this setting would probably be more appropriate.

_“It would be better if you handle this as the Inquisitor, not his…lover. At least at first. His decision is something that affects the entire Inquisition, so you need to address it as its representative. And, to be honest, I think he will respect you for keeping it separate from your personal feelings.”_

Cassandra’s words had made sense, but it did not make it easier to deal with. _And why not? Up until….just last night, we were nothing more than Inquisitor and Commander. Ask me to do this two days ago and it wouldn’t have been a problem. But now, I’m a complete wreck._

For a moment, she felt anger…disappointment in herself and took a long drink of the wine that had been left upon the table from the last meeting. It was tepid and flat, but it at least covered up the lyrium. _I thought that finally acknowledging our feelings would make us stronger, but it’s only tearing things apart around us. Was it all a mistake?_

Before she could go any further down that discouraging path of thought, there was a tentative knock on the door. Composing herself behind the table…his usual spot, she just now realized…she replaced the parchment on its stack and called out, “Enter!”

He looked like death, but carried himself still with straight-backed dignity as he approached the table. There was only the faintest tremor in his voice as he stationed himself in her usual place, “Inquisitor. I formally present myself…” he broke off with a groan, wincing in obvious pain, “I’m sorry….I never meant for this to interfere—“

It took every ounce of willpower not to go to his aid, but his wording confused her. _Is he talking about the lyrium…or us?_ “I know that, Commander.” She tried to keep her tone neutral, but the words came out as a near-whisper.

He heaved a weary sigh, “For whatever good it does. Promises are worth nothing if I cannot keep them…if I falter at just the weakest provocation.” He began pacing restlessly, his eyes darting about the room, but not really seeing it, “You know what happened at the Circle...but not all of it…everything they did to try and break us. It wasn’t just about you…the Templars…my friends…they tortured and broke them before they slaughtered them…made us watch. How could I be the same person after that?!”

“Cullen, I—“, remembering how she had found him…beaten, terrified, yet not broken…tore at her heart with the vision of what he had endured.

He waved her off, continuing to pace, “Greagoir…he wanted to ‘retire’ me. Sent me to Greenfell. Just when I thought my life as a Templar was over, I got orders to Kirkwall. I thought it would be a second chance…to serve, to prove myself. I trusted my Knight-Commander, but for what?” He laughed, a bitter sound. “Her fear of mages ended in madness.” His gaze snapped to her, a sort of sad bitterness in his pale brown eyes, “I could have so easily become like her. And when I finally realized that…I chose to leave it all behind.”

Meeting his gaze evenly, she nodded, “I understand, believe me…”

He only shook his head vehemently, “No…you don’t! You should be questioning what I’ve done!” Once more he began pacing, his hands moving in sharp gestures almost as though out of his control, “I thought this would be better. That it would give me some measure of control back. But, if I falter at the slightest provocation---“

He stopped to lean on the vast war table, staring sightlessly at the markers scattered over the map, “So much depends on our success. And I swore myself to this cause. Why should I give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry?” His voice dropped to a near-whisper as he weakly slammed his palms onto the table, “I should be taking it…“

Hyperia felt her chest tighten as though squeezed by an iron grip, “Cullen…no.” She circled around the table to stand at his side, though giving him a respectful distance, “What the Inquisition needs is a Commander who is at peace with his decisions. Is that really what _you_ want?”

Slowly, he lifted his head to meet her gaze, pain, yet a certain resignation in his eyes, “No…but if I can’t resist…can’t endure this…”

Cautiously, she reached out to lay a hand on his arm, holding his gaze within her own, “You can. I swear, I will never let anything like that ever happen again.” As she spoke, the resolve she’d been hanging onto since he entered the room began to crumble, “I’m sorry…I don’t know why I didn’t even stop to think that you’d be able to sense…”

“It’s not your fault”, he murmured quietly, placing his hand atop hers to give it a reassuring squeeze. “You couldn’t have known…”

A faintly bitter laugh rose from her chest, “It’s ironic…Cassandra and I had just discussed it earlier today. ‘It won’t be easy’, she said. I believed her…I just didn’t realize…”

“I never meant to hurt you”, he sighed, his gaze flicking away from hers, “It’s the last thing in the world I want to do.”

Reaching up, she gently tilted his chin back to her, “I know. We both acted without thinking.”

“I—“, he began, then paused and swallowed hard, features pinching in discomfort, “I understand if you…feel you can…no longer trust me after what I did.”

A quick array of emotions flickered over her face at that…surprise, distress, then amusement, a quiet chuckle escaping as she drew him into her arms, “Silly man, you will have to try much harder than that to lose my trust…or my love.”

She felt him tense, then eventually relax into the embrace, his own arms wrapping around her as he murmured into her hair, “Thank you.”

Her lips pressed a soft kiss to his ear as she whispered, “Trust…but I will definitely make sure to wash the lyrium out of my mouth from now on.”

His body shook with laughter as he pulled away to experimentally sniff her breath and smiled as he leaned into place a tender kiss upon her lips, tasting the wine she had imbibed before he arrived, “Very wise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned into a really long roller-coaster ride of emotions! I was trying to segue into the whole series of scenes from "Perseverance" stemming from my head-canon lyrium kiss, but when I first tried to write this, it just wasn't coming together with the "Omph!" of feels that I wanted. So...slept on it, woke up and redid it with the POV changes and I think it worked out much better! Obviously, I did a little switch-up with the in-game scenes for a more logical flow (I hope).  
> I've come to realize that I had originally intended to do way more POV-switching in this story than I've actually done. I'm going to try and bring more of it in because I definitely want to do more than just tell Hyperia's story. There's all sorts of interesting people/events going on in the background that need to be highlighted as well. Sometimes it just feels as though there's no breathing space between all the major events to include everything I want to. I'm still planning on wriggling filler stuff in whenever I can though!


	33. Preparations for War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition prepares for their assault on the Grey Wardens at Adamant among tensions running high and regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **NSFW Warning**  
> Just a wee bit of only semi-explicit naughtiness at the end.

Hyperia restrained her need to pace the War Room floor as she sipped a cup of Antivan kaffe. She was exhausted, yet her body felt restless as she tried to keep her attention on the map spread out across the table. She occasionally caught Alistair tossing her surreptitious glances out of the corner of her eye, which put her even more on edge.

Despite having settled things with Cullen the night before, she still felt uneasy. They had opted to take to their own beds as to be well-rested for the early morning meeting, but she had not slept well. The thought that her carelessness could have lasting consequences on his recovery had kept her awake long into the night.

“So what you’re saying is that the Wardens are committing human sacrifice and performing blood magic because they think it will prevent all future Blights?!” Leliana exclaimed as she narrowed her eyes across the table at Alistair. “That’s…insane!”

Before he could reply, Hyperia snapped, “What do you expect from a group that forces you to drink darkspawn blood in order to join? It’s part of the whole ‘we will do anything to stop the Blight’ mentality.”

Alistair shot her a look that was part shock, part anger, “Hyperia!”

“What?!” She snapped back as she slammed down the last of the now-tepid kaffe, “I’m not obligated to keep their secrets anymore” Now she did start pacing, her temper rising, the more she spoke, “I can’t believe Clarel would be so…stupid! Did she even consult with Weisshaupt before going forward with this? Do they even know about it? Bah, Orlesians!”

The entire room went silent, all eyes watching her with varying degrees of concern. For some reason, that raised her ire even more, “And, no….if I was still Warden-Commander, I doubt that would have made a bit of difference! How many Ferelden Wardens are left now anyway? Anders is dead, Maker only knows where Velanna is, Oghren would…probably just go get drunk, and Nathaniel wouldn’t go along with this. Even if more Joined after I left, it’s still not enough to make a difference one way or the other….for Corypheus’ plans…or a future Blight!”

A hush hung over the room until Alistair spoke up quietly, “There…were more. But, most were at the Conclave.”

A long, heavy sigh escaped her, shoulders slumping, “Which means they’re dead…and we’re back down to not even a scant handful again.”

Alisitair quirked a brow at her, a faint amusement in his voice, “’We’re’? Careful now…you’re beginning to sound like the Warden-Commander again.”

She huffed out a bitter laugh, “Old habits die hard, I guess.” Scrubbing one hand over her face, she sighed, “Sorry…we’re supposed to be planning the attack on Adamant, not listening to me vent my frustrations about the Wardens.”

“Right”, Leliana flashed her one more look of curiosity and concern before turning her attention to the map, “Adamant Fortress has stood against the darkspawn since the Second Blight. But, that actually gives us an advantage…”

“Indeed”, Cullen spoke up and Hyperia could not help but eye him appraisingly for any signs of last night’s relapse, “It was built before the age of modern day siege equipment, so a good trebuchet will do major damage to the walls.”

“And where--?” Hyperia began only to be gently interrupted by Josephine.

“I have a few noble families I can contact in regards to loaning us what we will need. I believe Lady Seryl of Jader owes me a favor or two.”

“Good, we’ll need to move quickly in order to stop them before they finish this ritual…”

\------------------------

_The Western Approach_

_Three days later…_

The sun had long since set over the rocky desert, only a few torches and campfires illuminated the tents and bedrolls of the Inquisition army. Most of the soldiers were still awake, playing games of chance, sparring, or just talking to keep the nervousness of the next day’s battle at bay.

The mages who had brought them there were still in various stages of recovery, whether emptying their stomachs in the healer’s tent or passing out in a lyrium-induced stupor. It had not been an easy task to train a dozen of the Inquisition’s most experienced mages in Dorian’s spell, but they had accomplished what would have seemed impossible a mere week ago: to transport an entire army across half of Thedas in a single day.

It not had gone completely flawlessly, however. There was one squadron of soldiers who ended up several hours to the north. Then there was the one trebuchet that somehow arrived missing one wheel…and one of the mages transporting it.

Of the Inquisition mages, Dorian and Solas emerged from the experience the most unaffected. Dorian, obviously because he had helped create and test it…Solas, it was assumed due to his affinity with the Fade. Vivienne was currently in Val Royeaux, presumably securing the invitations to the Winter Palace Ball. Hyperia had been mildly disappointed at that, for a small part of her rather wanted to see the arrogant enchantress puking her guts out in the middle of the desert on her pristine silken robes.

So, the trio had taken on the bulk of the duty of transporting the soldiers and supplies to what would be the front line in their assault on Adamant. While she didn’t suffer from the side effects as much now, Hyperia still hated the spell. She always felt completely wrung-out afterwards and every vial of lyrium she had to down was another reminder of the consequences of her ignorant carelessness of three nights ago.

When the last of the camp had finally been set up, she wearily staggered to her tent. Thankfully, the strategy had been discussed at the war council prior to their departure. So, aside from being short one trebuchet and a squadron of soldiers, there would probably be no change in their original plans. Which meant she would be able to fall straight into her cot without having to sit through any more meetings.

Or so she had thought…

“Knock knock?” A familiar voice inquired outside her tent flap just as she was about to climb into her cot.

Restraining a tired sigh, she replied, “Come in, Alistair.”

He ducked inside, then frowned as he noted that she was dressed for bed in a simple loose long tunic. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to….”

She waved him off, gesturing to one of the camp chairs as she settled upon the cot across from him, “It’s fine. My mind’s too restless right now to sleep anyway.”

“I know what you mean”, he said with a wry smile as he settled onto the chair, “Big day tomorrow. Not as big as taking down the archdemon maybe, but…”

“So I hope”, she muttered, “They did tell you that Corypheus has an archdemon, right?”

“Yeah”, he said, raking one hand through his copper-brown hair, “Can’t help but wonder if part of the reason for this ‘false Calling’ was to drown it out…so we couldn’t hear its presence.” His gaze dropped thoughtfully, “But…if there’s an archdemon, that should mean another Blight…but, there’s been no sign of a darkspawn horde anywhere.”

Hyperia shrugged, “I don’t know. What that Tevinter magister said about Corypheus controlling the Blight…that would mean he’s controlling the archdemon, wouldn’t it? But, for whatever reason, he’s not using it to start another Blight? I would think that would be easier than trying to recruit mages, Templars, Wardens, and demons.”

“Maybe…too many of the darkspawn were wiped out the last time”, Alistair mused thoughtfully before releasing a chuckle. “Or maybe he’s worried that if two brand-new Grey Wardens and a rag-tag group of people can take down the Blight once, what’s stopping us from getting an even bigger army and doing it again?”

She nodded, brows furrowing in thought, “That…actually does make sense in a way. He’s trying to take away what allies we did have back during the Blight. Maybe he is planning to eventually start a new one once he’s wiped out most of the opposition.”

“Scary thought”, Alistair sighed, then fell silent for a long moment. “Listen, I’m sorr—“

“Alistair, I’m sorry about—“

Their words tumbled over one another before they paused, then burst into laughter.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you the other day…at the war council”, Alistair quickly blurted out before she could start again. “I…can’t blame you for feeling the way you do. You were never really as….well, invested in being a Grey Warden as I was.”

“I know”, she sighed, “And I’m sorry for venting all of that on you. I was…in something of a mood that morning and…everything built up just…came out.”

Alistair leaned in to lightly place a hand upon her knee, “It’s alright. I tend to forget that while the Wardens rescued me from a life that I hated, they took you away from a life that you…well, didn’t hate. So, your outlook on them was very different.”

“It wasn’t like I didn’t want to leave the Tower…at least for a little while. I wanted to go out into the world, see what was out there. I thought that I’d join the Wardens, help with the battle against the darkspawn, then go back to the Tower when it was all over…like Wynne and Uldred did after Ostagar.” Her eyes closed as she heaved a deep breath, “I never imagined it would take over my entire life.”

“I know. While I understand why they keep the Joining and everything else a secret, I still don’t like how it affects people like you…and Jory…who have their entire lives stripped away…sometimes literally…by it.” He shrugged, “I mean…I don’t think we should tell people exactly what happens…”

Hyperia chuckled, “Like blurting out in the middle of a war council how they make you drink darkspawn blood?”

Alistair rolled his eyes and laughed, “Yes…like that. But, I think that some kind of…I don’t know…vague-ish type of warning might be good. Like saying…‘In order to be a Warden you’re going to have to do a ritual that might kill you, and will change you forever. Are you fine with that?’, before recruiting them. It would save so much needless death and resentment.”

“And you’d know that the ones who agree are devoted to the cause. Not just the desperate or those who think it’s all about glory.” Hyperia could still see Jory’s lifeless eyes staring up at her as Duncan handed her the chalice….the knight slain because he refused the Joining.

She then canted narrowed eyes to him, “Just one more reason they should have made you Warden-Commander and not me…I don’t care how much you say you hate to lead.”

“I know…that was horribly selfish of me. I didn’t even once think whether or not you would want it…I just stepped back and let them give it to you while I thanked the Maker that I’d managed to escape that _and_ being made king…and I’m sorry.”

He released a deep rueful sigh before continuing, “But that’s sort of why I’m here. I wanted to tell you that…well, depending on how this all works out…I’ll be leaving after the battle. Probably to Weisshaupt…to tell them…well, everything that’s happened.” Pausing, he took a deep breath as though what he had to say next actually pained him, “And…I’m going to accept the Warden-Commander post if they still want to offer it to me.”

Hyperia blinked in obvious shock, “I’m…well…I’m proud of you, Alistair…really.”

He shrugged, offering her a wry smirk, “About time I did the right thing for once instead of handing it off to someone else, eh?”

“You’ve always sold yourself short. I think you’re a much better leader than you want to admit”, she said reassuringly, laying her hand atop his to give it a gentle squeeze.

For a moment, he sat in silence, his gaze upon their joined hands, “To be honest…I’m just scared. To have that much responsibility…what if I do something horribly wrong?”

“Alistair, are you planning on conducting blood magic rituals to raise a demon army?”

A burst of laughter shook his body, “Well…no.”

“Then you can’t do any worse than Clarel…take some comfort in that, at least.”

“Thanks…I think”, he replied with a shake of his head as he rose to his feet. “I’ll let you get your rest…big battle tomorrow and all…”

“Will Hawke be going with you?” Somehow, the thought of her rather acerbic, sarcastic cousin laying into the leadership at Weisshaupt brought a smile tugging at Hyperia’s lips.

Alistair chuckled, almost as though the same thought had occurred, “I don’t think I could stop her even if I wanted to. She’s railed on about the Wardens almost as much as you have…and without the dubious benefit of first-hand experience. Well, except for me…and I’m not exactly a typical Warden, as you well know.”

“Good, someone needs to be there to make sure you don’t talk yourself out of this”, she said with a grin as she rose to embrace him, “And I’m glad you two found each other.”

“Me too”, Alistair murmured against her shoulder as he returned the embrace, then pulled away slightly, a look of wary confusion on his face, “You know…I almost feel bad for saying that. It just sounds…’hey, I found someone else to love’…ugh.” An impish smile then tugged at this lips, “But then, I have to remember…so did you…finally.”

“Well, I…” She stammered, cheeks flushing, before she was interrupted by another familiar voice just outside the tent.

“Inquisitor?”

Alistair chuckled as he released the embrace, “Speaking of…”

“Come in”, she called out, tugging self-consciously at the hem of her nightshirt as she stepped away from him.

“I apologize, I didn’t know you had…company”, Cullen stopped short as he stepped into the tent.

Alistair flashed him a grin, “I was about to head out, actually. I’ll leave you two to your…debriefing.” At that, he tossed Hyperia a lascivious wink.

“Alistair!” She huffed as a bright red flush crept onto Cullen’s face.

“Look at you two…all mottled and trying to act innocent”, Alistair chuckled and Hyperia couldn’t help but recall Wynne teasing them in the same manner so long ago. “You do know that the guest quarters overlook the garden…right?”

“So you…?” Hyperia sank her face into her palm, “Oh Maker…”

“I tried not to cheer too loudly, but I think I scared one of Leliana’s birds”, Alistair said abashedly, though Hyperia could tell he was enjoying every second of their embarrassment.

“So that’s what….” Cullen murmured thoughtfully.

“And, with that…I bid you both a good night”, Alistair gave them an exaggerated bow before backing out of the tent, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Cullen watched him leave with a sort of confused, yet wary look before turning to Hyperia, “Do you know how completely…odd this feels?”

“Yes”, she chuckled, rolling her eyes, “All too well.”

Shrugging, Cullen appeared to want to say more but just shook his head, “I just came to report that our missing squadron has arrived. A bit late, due to injuries sustained when the back rank materialized over the edge of a ravine.”

“Andraste’s tits! Anything serious?”

“Just a twisted ankle, one broken arm, and a concussion. It apparently wasn’t a very deep ravine, thankfully.”

Hyperia breathed a sigh of relief, “What about our broken trebuchet?”

“Well, the good news is that it’s been repaired. Thank the Maker we brought spare parts along.”

“And the bad news?”

Cullen shrugged expressively, “The wheel and the mage are still missing. I shudder to think where they might have ended up.” His nose wrinkled in distaste, “That spell…it’s…disconcerting. So many things could go wrong…we’ve already seen that.”

A faint smile tugged at her lips, “I am still amazed at how…accepting you’ve been of so much of this. And, to be honest…me.” As he slanted her a look of confusion, she shrugged, “You’ve seen the worst mages have to offer, yet you’ve gone along with all of this.”

“Because I’ve put my trust in you”, reaching out he took her hand in his, “as the Inquisition’s leader and as someone I care for a great deal.”

“And that still continues to amaze me, considering that I’m a mage”, she sighed, “All of the horrible things that you’ve seen mages capable of…you don’t see that in me?”

Frowning, he shook his head, “No, have I ever given you a reason to--?” With a flinch, he turned away, releasing her hand to rake his fingers through his hair, “Of course I have.” He released a heavy sigh, as he turned back to her to reclaim her hand, “Whatever fears and doubts I have about magic, I do not see any of those in you. I was wrong to ever do so. You’ve never given me any reason to mistrust you, no matter what hasty words I might have said in the past.”

As he lifted her hand to his lips, she instinctively flinched, drawing a puzzled look from him. “I’m sorry”, she murmured, her features pinched in regret, “I’ve taken so much lyrium today, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was seeping from my pores.”

Cautiously, he lifted her hand and sniffed experimentally, his lips curling in a bemused smile as he pressed them to her fingers, “It’s not.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, but he could still feel a slight tension beneath her skin, “Good, I just…don’t want to take any chances. Not with the battle tomorrow and…”

As she trailed off, brows furrowed with apprehension, he pulled her in close, concern in his eyes, “How are you holding up? I know this can’t be easy…”

Sighing, she slid her arms around him, just appreciating his nearness, “I’m terrified, honestly. It’s not the battle itself, it’s the idea that…we’re going to be killing Grey Wardens. Every one we kill is one less we’ll have if Corypheus tries to start another Blight…and there are so few already.”

“You and Alistair managed it with the two of you”, he tried to reassure her, one hand sliding through her hair.

“We were…insanely lucky…or the Maker was with us…I don’t know”, she murmured, eyes closing, “Every other Blight before took years…sometimes decades…and a legion of Grey Wardens to quell. By attacking them…it’s like we’re turning our own blades upon ourselves.”

“Perhaps Josephine was right and some of them will listen to reason”, he chuckled faintly, “With the vaunted Hero of Ferelden laying into them, I don’t see how they couldn’t.”

“You’re saying I should waggle my finger at them and scold them like I’m their mother?”

“You never know…it might work”, Cullen shrugged, grinning crookedly.

Hyperia schooled her features into a visage of stern disappointment and waggled her finger at him, “How could you?! You have been such a very…very…” Her tone suddenly dropped to something more akin to a purr, “Very…bad boy.”

His brows raised sharply, a sparkle of intrigued amusement in his eyes, “I hope you’re not going to say it like _that_ to them!”

A wicked grin curved her lips as she pushed him back onto the camp chair and climbed into his lap, straddling his thighs. “No, that’s just for you.”

His eyes widened as they darted around the tent self-consciously, “You know…the entire army is just outside?” His words seemed hesitant, but his hands slid over her thighs as though on pure instinct.

“Then”, she whispered, leaning into nip teasingly at his ear, “I guess we’ll have to be very quiet.”

Cullen’s face flushed brightly as his mind drifted back to all of the times he had to do just that. But those were just the fantasies of youth, imagined in the dark of the Templar quarters….back before the desire demon had taken those fantasies and twisted them against him. This was real… _she_ was real…and restraining himself seemed an almost-impossible task. Especially once he felt her fingers deftly unfastening his breeches.

“Maker’s breath...are you sure---?” His protest seemed weak even to his ears and was swiftly cut off as he felt her hips lift, then lower to slowly sink onto him, dragging a ragged groan from his lips that he quickly bit off.

She had not even bothered to remove her smallclothes, but just pushed them aside, the extra friction from the cloth adding to the sensation. Sliding his hands beneath her sleepshirt, he pulled her close, burying his face against her neck to muffle the sounds trying to force their way past his lips.

The tent was filled with near-silence…only stifled moans and heavy breaths broke through as their pace increased. The chair was low enough so Hyperia could place her feet on the ground and lift herself nearly completely from him before gravity allowed him to impale her fully.

Their exertions grew ever more feverish, and it seemed almost as though they were trying to see which one would break first with a gasp or yelp. With one last sharp thrust, ecstasy enveloped them…and, surprisingly, it was not either of them that broke…

…but the flimsy chair beneath them with a sharp crack of wood that sent them both tumbling to the sandy ground beneath with yelps of surprise.

Just outside, a querulous voice cried out, “Inquisitor? Are you alright in there?”

Fighting back laughter as they attempted to extricate themselves from the now-ruined remains, she replied, “Yes….yes, I’m fine…thank you.”

As the footsteps receded, she finally burst into laughter, clinging helplessly to Cullen…who seemed to be struggling between laughter and utter mortification.

“That was…” She managed to gasp out between helpless bouts of giggles, “…Maker….exactly what I needed.”

Cullen’s body shook with laughter barely restrained, though he eyed her with obvious confusion, “You needed to be dumped on the ground by a broken chair?”

“No, you silly man! I needed to laugh!” Grinning, she kissed him firmly on the jaw before pulling away to meet his gaze with her own mirth-filled eyes, “And I needed you. And to forget everything that might happen tomorrow…if just for a moment.”

“I will do everything in my power to ensure that we emerge victorious”, he said, pulling her into a tight embrace to whisper into her hair, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know”, smiling, she touched the pendant at her throat, “I’ll have you there with me, after all.”

“Always”, he smiled as he leveraged himself upright to pull himself back together and brush the sand from his clothes. “We should probably get some rest.”

Taking his offered hand, Hyperia rose to her feet with a sigh, her gaze canting briefly to the narrow cot, “Next time, I’m requisitioning sleeping arrangements for two.”

“I’m hoping there won’t be a ‘next time’”, Cullen sighed, then coughed, features flushing at her suspicious glance, “I meant for a full-scale attack of this sort, not…”

Chuckling, she climbed into the cot, the day’s exertions, combined with those more recently indulged in, catching up to her all at once, “I know. Good night, Commander. See you on the battlefield.”

“And to you, Inquisitor”, he flashed her one last crooked smile before slipping from the tent and into the desert night air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow...this was one of those chapters that really fought me. I have about three other versions that I started on, thinking I was going to do some filler at Skyhold first, but nothing came out right...or it ended up fitting in better after Adamant. Once I started writing this version, things flowed much easier.  
> The little naughty bit at the end I really debated on including, but I wanted a little bit of fun after 3000 words of mostly-somber conversation.  
> Next chapter, we finally go to Adamant and things are going to get interesting! (Will I actually have decided who makes the sacrifice...if anyone? Hmmmm.....)


	34. Self-Destruction in Grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle of Adamant Fortress begins and tensions run high as all realize what the fight against the Grey Wardens may cost Thedas.

It rarely rained in the Western Approach. Still, a thick veil of clouds hung heavily over Adamant Fortress, shrouding it in a gloomy, twilight-like pall; only flickering torchlight and flaming trails of trebuchet payloads arcing across the sky to pierce the gloom.

Somehow it seemed fitting.

_What will become of this? Will future generations curse our names for destroying the only defense against the Blight?_

These thoughts had plagued Hyperia for days and now, standing here, watching Grey Wardens and Inquisition soldiers alike falling to one another’s blades and arrows, the full reality of what they were doing seemed to hit as hard as a trebuchet. As she cast a sidelong glance to Alistair, she could tell that the same considerations weighed heavily upon his mind as well.

_Maker, I can only pray there will be any Wardens left for him to command. It will not be easy._

Cullen had insisted that they stay out of the initial assault until the gates were breached. _“Save your strength. I get the feeling you’re going to need it once we get inside.”_

Hyperia had been rather surprised, yet grateful, that the Warden mages did not seem to be joining the fight. _Perhaps they are too busy keeping their demon pets controlled._ However, it had still been a long and trying battle to get the battering ram into position at the gates. Apparently the Wardens hadn’t sacrificed all of their warriors, for there were more than enough to defend the walls. She couldn’t help but flinch at the sound of a thrown rock crushing one soldier’s helmet and the skull beneath. But, she was impressed at the discipline of the soldiers who continued to man the ram, no matter how many of their fellows were felled beside them by rocks or arrows.

A mighty crash and the splintering of wood heralded the destruction of the massive gates. As one, Hyperia and her companions rushed through them, using the ram as cover from the few Wardens who continued to rain arrows and rocks down upon them.

Only a pair of Warden mages and their bound demons were there to greet them, the warriors having been felled or stunned by the destruction of the gate. Their group made short work of them just as Cullen and a handful of soldiers rushed in to cover their advance.

“Inquisitor!” He called out as he caught up to her and she couldn’t help but appreciate how easily he wore the role of military commander. _How far he’s come in the past ten years….how far we’ve all come_ , she mused, darting a glance back to Alistair who lingered protectively behind her, Hawke at his side.

“We’ll keep the demons off of you as best we can”, he paused, frowning as his gaze darted towards the battlements, “But there’s too much resistance on the walls. Our men on the ladders can’t get a foothold. If we can clear out the enemies on the battlements, I can send reinforcements to cover your advance.”

“I can help with that”, Hawke piped up and Alistair shot her a curious glance then shrugged as he laid a hand on Hyperia’s shoulder, fixing her with a look of uncharacteristic intensity.

“Do not confront Clarel without me”, his tone and features softened slightly, “If you can help it, of course.”

“Just don’t take too long”, she tossed him a crooked smirk over her shoulder.

“We’re already gone”, dropping his hand, he glanced to Hawke who took off towards the battlements.

“Cassandra, Bull, Varric…you’re with me. The rest of you, go help them!” As her companions broke into their respective groups, she added ardently, “Try to spare as many Wardens as you can! Give them a chance to surrender, if possible!”

Alistair tossed her a look of sheer gratitude before jogging after Hawke and the rest.

As her own group advanced, Hyperia paused to fix Cullen with a concerned eye. She had noted that he was looking even more pale and drawn than usual today. “Are you alright?”

He merely waved her off with a casual gesture, lips tugging into a faint smile that was obviously meant to be reassuring, “I’ll be fine. We’ll hold them off as long as we can.”

His wording did not escape her notice, a frown curving her lips, “Cullen…don’t take any unnecessary risks on my behalf.”

“We will do what we must to keep you safe”, his features softened for an instant, “But I will do what I can to make sure I’m here when you return.”

“You do that”, a smile pulled at the corner of her lips as she laid a gloved hand briefly against his cheek, then turned to join the others.

\------------------------

“Ysara….wait!” Alistair called out at her quickly retreating form.

She never broke stride as she muttered over her shoulder, “You didn’t have to come with me. I’ll be fine. Go….watch the Inquisitor’s back.”

A frown creased his brow as he caught up to her, taking her arm to halt her stride, “What is wrong? You’ve been in a mood since last night.”

A mix of anger and pain flitted across her face as she pulled her arm from his grasp and continued walking, “You were in her tent for quite some time.”

“Oh Andraste’s flaming…” Alistair grumbled, rolling his eyes, “We were _talking_ , Ysara. About the Grey Wardens, this battle, my future… _our_ future. And I mean that as in you and I, not she and I.”

Ysara huffed, “I know you still care for her and I won’t be burned again by one of her….toss-offs.”

Alistair flinched visibly, cheeks coloring with anger, “’Toss-offs’?! Is that…Ysara, I left _her_!”

“You didn’t want to”, she replied sulkily, “And I won’t be just some…cheap replacement.”

Once more, Alistair reached out to grab her arm, turning her to face him, his hazel eyes boring into her bright green ones, “Ysara…you’re not. I love _you_ …for you, not what family name you bear or as a substitute for someone I can’t have. I have already been in that position and it’s not anything I would ever put anyone else…especially you…through.”

“Loves of Fade’s fire, torn in blood and paper. Hearts rent but mending, stitched together with loss and laughter. The flame burns less brightly, but brings warmth for years to come.”

The quiet voice spoken from a face hidden beneath a broad-brimmed hat cut through the din of the chaos around them. But even as Alistair opened his mouth to speak, the boy was gone.

A smile began to tug at Ysara’s lips, the confusion fading as she reached out with a quick motion to pull Alistair into a fierce kiss.

Alistair’s surprised exclamation was muffled against her lips, fading into a quiet sigh of contentment as he wrapped her in a tight embrace.

“Whoa people! Aren’t we supposed to be fighting or something?!” Sera’s voice interrupted, the elven archer wearing a crooked smile upon her bright red lips.

Flushing brightly, the pair separated, Alistair coughing quietly, “Right. Let’s go.”

\----------------------

Time seemed to stretch into an eternity as they waded through waves of demons, accompanied by Warden mages whose eyes glowed a baleful crimson. These they struck down with impunity, knowing there was no hope of saving them from Corypheus’ hold. But while many of the other Wardens blindly followed their Commander’s decree, there were some who still had misgivings about what she was planning and gratefully surrendered to the Inquisition. Apparently many held the same views as Alistair, but had chosen to keep silent as to avoid his fate.

“Thank the Maker we caught up to you!” Alistair exclaimed as he and Hawke jogged to Hyperia and her group just as they were about to enter the courtyard ahead. Hyperia could hear Clarel’s voice carrying over the din of battle, calling out to the Wardens assembled a litany of sacred duties and sacrifice. It made her stomach turn.

 _“The Wardens do whatever is necessary to end the Blight.”_ Those words echoed back from the past…to her Joining where two lives were sacrificed to fill the ranks. She was the only survivor…and then hundreds more died to try to stop the Blight…while she and Alistair were the only ones to escape. And now…once again, they stood as two against many…but facing off against the very people they had suffered so much for.

Even now, a rift tore itself open in the center of the courtyard, the shimmering form of something…horrifying seen just beyond, as Clarel stood at the side of the Tevinter Magister, her hands and uniform wet with blood.

Hyperia strode forward, blood boiling with rage, “Clarel! Stop this madness!”

The elder Warden turned sharply, her chiseled features shifting from anger and annoyance to shock, “Warden-Commander Amell?!”

Before she could speak, the Magister glowered and gestured to the assembled Wardens filling the courtyard, “’Madness’? Is it madness to want to stop the Blight? To save all of Thedas from destruction after the Wardens are gone?”

Hyperia merely rolled her eyes, “Stop with the lies, Erimond! You have no desire to stop the Blight, only to raise a demon army for your master, Corypheus!”

At that, Clarel’s eyes widened, “Corypheus? But…he’s dead!”

“These people will say anything to shake your confidence, Clarel”, Erimond scoffed.

For a moment, all seemed to stand still, the Wardens glancing between their leader and the two Wardens who were considered the heroes of the Fifth Blight, indecision written upon every face.

Alistair strode forward to break the silence, a determination that Hyperia had never seen before written upon his features, “Do you honestly think that, if this ritual would truly stop the Blight, we would not be there with you at your side?! This is a lie! He is binding your mages to a master of the Blight!”

Hyperia moved to stand at his side, “We do not want to kill any of you! You are our brothers and sisters and you are being used! We have spared those who have surrendered! Please, see reason!”

One of the Wardens stepped forward, a tremor in his voice, but his swarthy features set with resolve, “The mages…the ones who have done the ritual…they’re not right. Like puppets on a string. Some of them were my friends!”

“Warden Chernoff, you cannot let fear cloud your mind!” Clarel called out, earning her a look of utter betrayal from him, as well as many others gathered.

“He is not the one who is afraid, Clarel”, Hawke snarled as she stepped forward to join Hyperia and Alistair, “It is you. You are afraid that you have slaughtered your own people…brave men and women all…for a lie!”

“I—“ Clarel’s gaze darted furtively between them and Erimond…who released a disgusted huff and stepped back to fix her with a baleful glare.

“Perhaps it is time I bring in a more reliable ally”, he sneered as he slammed the butt of his staff into the ground three times.

An unholy screech echoed over the battlements, followed by the beat of wings. Every head turned skyward, eyes widening, the Wardens all bearing expressions of shock and dismay.

Hyperia chanced a glance to Clarel, whose face appeared completely drained of blood as her gaze fixed upon the silhouette of the archdemon drawing ever closer.

“My master thought you might come here, so he sent this to welcome you!” The Magister called out in exultation as the blighted dragon circled the courtyard once before belching crimson crystalline energy down upon them.

Hyperia could feel an electric heat wash past them as they barely managed to dive out of the way in time. _Maker, I wanted something to sway her…just…not this…_

\----------------------

“Ser, the battlements are secure for now and reinfor—“

The Inquisition soldier addressing Cullen suddenly stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening at something in the distance. Before Cullen could say a word, an all-too-familiar shriek reverberated across the battlefield.

“No…” he whispered as the archdemon soared overhead, heading straight for the center of the fortress. _Not again…you won’t face this alone this time…_

“All of you, follow me!” He called out to the men assembled behind him before taking off towards the courtyard at a sprint, a silent prayer repeating in his mind. _Please Maker, keep her safe…_

It seemed an eternity until they reached the courtyard. Seconds before they arrived, the archdemon took off towards the highest battlement, screeching in rage. A scattering of Wardens and the remaining companions were fighting off a wave of demons that had poured from the rift dominating the center of the courtyard.

Cullen’s eyes darted about frantically as no trace of Hyperia or her companions were in sight. As the last demon was put down, he grabbed Dorian’s arm, eyes wild, “Where are they?!”

The Tevinter mage’s brows furrowed as he gestured towards the battlement where the archdemon had flown, “They went after Clarel and that Venatori wretch.”

Dorian’s eyes widened at the vehement curse Cullen spat out before breaking into a run towards the battlements. “Damn it man, you can’t go alone!” The Tevinter mage grumbled before hurrying after him.

As they rounded a second flight of stairs leading up to the battlements, the corpses of Wardens and demons alike littering the way, the archdemon’s scream of agony rent the air and their eyes were drawn upward to a broken masonry ledge where the dragon’s body flailed and slid over the edge before taking wing and fleeing into the night.

Cullen almost dared a sigh of relief until his gaze fell upon the ledge that was rapidly crumbling…and the figures staggering upon it, attempting to regain their footing.

“Don’t stand there gawping!” Dorian grabbed his arm, “We have to help them!”

Shaken from the fear that gripped his gut, Cullen took off after him…emerging upon the battlement just in time to see Hyperia and her companions tumble off the edge with the remnants of the ledge.

“No!” Unheeding of his own safety, he ran towards the ledge where a flash of emerald energy bloomed into being…and swallowed her, along with her companions, before snapping closed behind them.

“She opened a rift”, Dorian’s voice murmured behind him in fascination. Cullen felt the man’s hand come to rest upon his shoulder, “it shouldn’t be possible…but I suppose they’re now in the Fade.”

Cullen fought for words…questions that he was afraid to ask, “Are…can they survive there?”

“If anyone can, she can…and find them a way out again.”

“Maker…I can only pray you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For as much build up and anticipation I had over writing this chapter, it really did not come easily! I wanted a good mix of head-canon and gameplay, but it took awhile for it all to come together in a way that I am satisfied with. Replaying it and using FlyCam to get some layout ideas and really interesting shots of the fortress and the characters themselves really helped. I really felt like I was leaving poor Hawke out in the cold, so I just had to sneak a little brief interlude for her and Alistair in there. I wanted to include more companion cameos, but trying to juggle so many characters in one chapter just exhausted me, so I didn't do as much as I would have liked.  
> Next, we enter the Fade...


	35. Into the Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyperia and crew fight their way through the Fade as the Inquisition and Wardens combine forces to battle for survival until their return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: In case anyone forgot (since I know I haven't used him in many chapters), Blackwall in this fic goes by Thomas Randall (since Hyperia knows he's not Blackwall, but he's still using an assumed name to hide who he really is).

_Falling…_

_A slash of green ribbon glowing in the night…_

_Instinct…a flash…_

_Still falling…falling…_

_Floating…_

_The ground slowly rises up to meet her, then…_

Impact, swift and sudden, the breath driven from her lungs as she hit the damp rocky ground with a groan. Leveraging herself upright, turning to take in their surroundings…surreal, yet familiar.

“Well, this is…unexpected”, she heard Alistair comment from…above her. Turning towards his voice, her eyes widened to see him standing sideways upon a stalactite floating in mid-air.

“If this is the afterlife the Chantry owes me an apology”, Hawke commented mockingly from where she was perched on a similar chunk of rock, opposite to Alistair’s, but upside-down. “This looks nothing like the Maker’s bosom.”

“We’re in the Fade”, Hyperia replied, casting a look to Alistair who scowled thoughtfully.

“It’s…sort of familiar, maybe. Not when I saw my sister…but when we faced the Sloth demon…yes, a little”, he murmured quietly.

Hawke frowned as she took in their surroundings, “It’s not at all like I remember. It was more…’stone fortress and demons and friends betraying me’ and less floating rocks and green water.”

“Ahh…fun times”, Varric muttered from behind them.

“Perhaps it’s because we’re here physically and not just in a dream”, Alistair mused before canting his gaze to Hyperia. “They said you stepped out of the Fade. Was it like this was when you were here before?”

She sighed, shaking her head in frustration, “I don’t remember. Everything from the time I arrived at the Conclave to when I woke up in Haven is just…a fog…like a dream I can’t quite remember.”

“What matters now is how are we going to get out of here and back to where we need to be”, Cassandra commented as she approached.

 “Can’t you like…use the mark to get us out?” Varric asked hopefully, his fingers tapping restlessly on his crossbow.

Hyperia sighed, “No…I can’t just open a rift anywhere I want. We will have to find one to go through.”

“There was the one in the main hall that Clarel was using to summon that big demon”, Hawke said, then added irritably, “Of course, that would mean that we’d have to go _through_ the big demon to get to it.”

“Rrrrgghhh”, Bull made a sound that was something akin to a dragon with constipation, “I don’t mind fighting demons, Boss…but you never said anything about dumping us straight into the middle of Demon Town.”

“Would you have preferred being splattered all over the ground?” Hyperia asked, lips quirking in amusement.

Bull glanced around, shaking his head, “At this point, that’s a really hard call, Boss.”

“Regardless”, Cassandra interjected, “we need to get out of here.”

“Right”, Hyperia said, eyes drawn to a swirling mass of emerald light in the distance, “There…that’s probably our way out…let’s go.”

\------------------

Thomas Randall had never been so exhausted, yet invigorated in his entire life. Fighting at the side of the Inquisition and the Grey Wardens was almost like a dream come true. After so many wasted years of pretending to be a good man, a hero…for the first time in his life, he actually felt like maybe he could be one.

The demons had not stopped pouring from the rift even after the archdemon’s departure and the deaths of the Warden mages, so every Warden and Inquisition soldier who wasn’t already tasked with cleaning up the remnants of the battle was engaged in a seemingly-endless battle with the creatures.

As the last demon fell, the courtyard feel into a brief silence, punctuated by their panting breaths and the groans of the wounded. Everyone looked completely done in, but still determined. They took the brief lull between waves to down potions, bandage wounds, and collect arrows from the fallen demons.

“Uuugggh!” Sera exclaimed as she shook droplets of tarry blood from a handful of retrieved arrows, “How many more of these things do we have to kill?!”

“As many as we have to”, Cullen snapped. He looked even more exhausted than the rest, but some inner reserve kept him going far past the point where anyone else would have given up.

“If the Inquisitor is going to escape the Fade”, Solas stated calmly, “She will no doubt do so from this rift, since it is the closest from where they entered.”

“But what if she doesn’t ever come ou—?“ Sera’s question was bitten off sharply as Cullen leveled her a look that might have killed anyone else instantly.

“Now is not the time to fall into despair! She’s made it out of worse places than this”, Thomas piped up, “And she’s got Cassandra, Hawke, Alistair, and the rest with her. We just have to give them time.”

Cullen flashed him a weary, yet grateful smile, as Sera shrugged, grumbling, “Well, they need to hurry it up! We can’t do this forever!”

Almost on cue, the rift pulsed again and a new wave of demons began pouring forth. Everyone took a collective breath and prepared to engage them once again.

\-------------------------

“Demons…water…floating rocks…more demons…more water”, Bull grunted as they trudged through the twisted landscape, “’Hey chief. Let's join the Inquisition! Good fights for a good cause!’ I don't know, Krem, I hear there are demons. ‘Ah, don't worry about the demons, chief! I'm sure we won't see many!’ Asshole.”

Cassandra interrupted with a gasp as they rounded a corner to come face-to-face with a faintly-glowing figure perched upon a rock outcropping. “Most Holy?!”

Indeed, as they drew near, Hyperia could see that it was Divine Justinia…or at least someone (or something) who bore a remarkable resemblance. A beneficent smile spread across the woman’s lips as she addressed their party, “Cassandra…and the Hero of Ferelden. Or should I call you the Inquisitor now?”

Hyperia slanted a glance to Cassandra, “Is this really her? You knew her far better than I.”

“I…don’t know”, Cassandra replied, brows furrowing in obvious confusion as she studied the woman. “It is said that the souls of the dead pass through the Fade and sometimes linger, but…”

“Well, I don’t recall the Divine ever glowing”, Alistair interjected, “That’s something spirits usually do.”

Cassandra released a sigh, “Yes, and we know that spirits lie. So…”

“Justinia” merely smiled, her voice gentle, “You think my survival here impossible, yet you all stand here in the Fade alive yourselves. In truth, proving my existence either way would take up too much time that you do not have.”

Ysara rolled her eyes, “Really? How long does it take to answer one simple question: I am human…and you are…?”

“I am here to help you”, the spirit replied enigmatically before turning to Hyperia, “You do not remember what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.”

Hyperia shook her head, frowning as she noted that the spirit had not phrased it as a question, “Are you responsible for that?”

“No”, she replied, “it was the demon who serves Corypheus. It is the Nightmare you forget upon awakening. It feeds off of memories of fear and darkness, growing fat from the terror. It is what has caused the false Calling that has the Wardens so terrified.”

“Then I would very much like to have a word with this demon”, Alistair spat vehemently.

“You will have your chance, brave Alistair”, the spirit said gently as she gestured around them, “This place of darkness is its lair.”

“And I’m guessing it was that giant demon we saw on the other side of the rift”, Bull grumbled, “Greeeeaat.”

“Can you help us get out of here?” Hyperia asked.

“Yes, that is why I sought you out”, the spirit said as she gestured to an emerald glow dominating the open area ahead of them, “When you entered the Fade at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, the demon took a part of you….the memories you cannot recall. You must recover them before you can escape.”

Hyperia followed her gesture, but as she turned back to the woman, she was gone. “Well, lovely.”

As they approached the glow, a form rippled into being around it…that of an undulating demon, all teeth and claws, which fixed them with a baleful glare. A noise rumbled deep in Bull’s chest as he gripped the massive war axe in his hands.

“Demons….I…fucking…HATE…demons!”

As one, they charged the creature, which summoned a host of lesser demons to protect it. The battle was hard-fought, but they managed to finally strike it down where it dissolved into a steaming puddle of goo, the glowing energy pulsing brighter now.

Cautiously, Hyperia approached it and the mark flared to life on her hand. Her mind was flooded with images as the memories surged back into her through a flow of emerald energy.

 

> _The Temple of Sacred Ashes…so much has changed, yet still familiar…_
> 
> _A song…a calling…echoing in her mind…drawing her deeper into the temple…_
> 
> _Louder…now an irresistible melody as she pauses before a set of double doors…_
> 
> _A voice crying out, real this time, in horror and fear…_
> 
> _“Someone help me!”_
> 
> _She bursts within to come upon a strange ritual in progress…_
> 
> _The song so loud now…drowning out everything else…her feet moving towards the twisted perversion of a man who dominates the room, a glowing orb held aloft in one hand._
> 
> _“The Hero of Ferelden….I had hoped you would come. Join us…”_
> 
> _The tug on her mind unrelenting as her gaze takes in the Wardens assembled…all mages…hands extended to exude crimson energy towards the suspended figure of the Chantry’s Divine, Justinia._
> 
> _Fighting…she can’t fight it…_
> 
> _Then a movement…swift, sudden…the orb tumbles to the ground and pure instinct takes control as she bends to retrieve it…_
> 
> _Searing agony blooms in her palm, racing along her arm…_
> 
> _Through it all, the creature’s anguished yell…_
> 
> _White-hot pain exploding around her…_

A gasp torn from her lips as reality asserts itself…or rather, the twisted reality of the Fade where they now found themselves trapped.

“So….your mark…not a ‘gift from Andraste’, after all.” Alistair quietly mused. “It was Corypheus’ orb that did that…and ‘cured’ you.” He released a sharp laugh, “The irony is that it made you immune to his Calling. Made you the one Warden who could resist it…resist him.”

Once again, Justinia’s calm voice carried to them, the spirit lingering nearby, “Corypheus intended to rip open the Veil and use the Anchor to enter the Black City. Not for the Old Gods this time, but for himself. But the orb bestowed the Anchor on you instead.”

Hyperia sighed in frustration, “That much I’d surmised from what he said at Haven…but how does that help us now? We need to get out of here and get past that demon somehow!”

“Do not worry, I will do what I can to prepare the way ahead for you. It is not far now.”

As the spirit wearing the Divine’s form shimmered out of sight, Alistair spoke up, “Ysara…what’s wrong?”

Hyperia turned to see Hawke wearing a look of thoughtful anger upon her pale features, “I was just wondering what you thought about the fact that those were Wardens holding the Divine in that vision.”

Alistair shrugged, “I just assumed that Corypheus had taken control of their minds. You’ve seen that happen yourself, right?” He turned to Hyperia, “You felt it, didn’t you?”

“Yes”, she murmured, brows furrowing, “He was trying to do it to me too. If Justinia hadn’t knocked the orb away…I might have ended up like them.”

Ysara merely huffed as Alistair offered her a smile, “Come on, you can add it to the things to yell at the Wardens about when we get out of here.”

“Oh…I intend to”, she said, though Hyperia could sense a hint of playfulness in her tone, before she turned and strode off towards the rift, with Alistair releasing a weary sigh and following in her wake.

\-------------------------

_The explosion…all those deaths…it was your fault. Is there nothing…no one…that you touch that you don’t ruin? Everyone you’ve ever loved has had their lives tainted by you. Alistair, Anders, Cullen…all of the pain you caused them…you’re responsible for it all. If it wasn’t for you, there wouldn’t have even been a Conclave. And you destroyed it…_

The words echoed around Hyperia tauntingly. She had thought them solely figments of her mind until Alistair piped up in indignation, “Hey, my life isn’t ruined! Far from it!”

 _Ah yes, Alistair…_ _Did the king’s bastard think he could prove himself? It’s far too late for that. Your whole life you’ve left everything to more capable hands. The Archdemon, the throne of Fereldan…Who will you hide behind now? Your old lover…or the new one?_

His cheeks flushed, but still he grumbled defiantly, “Is that the best you can do? I’ve heard worse from Morrigan.”

“Ignore it”, Cassandra replied, “It is only trying to get under our skin.”

_And how does it feel, Seeker, to know that your “Herald of Andraste” was a lie? That all of your faith was for naught…that your Maker perhaps does not even exist?_

“To the Void with you, demon!” Cassandra called out into the damp, misty air.

“Good job ignoring that demon”, Bull chuckled as Cassandra tossed him a withering look.

_The Qunari will make a lovely host for my minions. Or perhaps I will ride his body myself._

The smile faded instantly from Bull’s scarred visage as he growled to the sky, “I’d just like to see you try.”

Laughter echoed through the Fade as shadowy shapes began to take form around them, shapeless forms of tarry slime that began to resolve into distinct forms.

Hyperia’s eyes went wide, a fist of terror clutching her as the demons took shape…lumbering forms of tainted flesh and rubbery tentacles, mouths shaped into the permanent rictus of a scream with eyes still barely human…and the same golden shade as her own.

“Uuugghh…spiders! I hate spiders!” Ysara growled, drawing her twin daggers as the creatures approached.

Bull tossed her a look of confusion, “Spiders? I’d take spiders any day over…” Whatever he had to say dissolved in a growl as he hefted his war axe and started swinging at the skittering creatures.

A sudden burst of lightning enveloped the demons and the ones not already felled by the weapons of the others dissolved into crackling puddles of goo.

“So they were…taking the form of our fears?” Varric inquired, stowing Bianca with a scowl upon his face, “Well, that’s just…wrong.”

“It would make sense in the realm of a Nightmare”, Hawke replied. “This thing is apparently dead-set on trying to scare us into giving up.”

_Oh Hawke…do you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn’t even save your city. How can you expect to strike down a god? You’re a failure, and your family died knowing it._

_And Varric…tagging along with her as always. Dragging her into danger again and again. The red lyrium, now this…you will be the death of her…_

Hawke rolled her eyes, clapping a comforting hand on Varric’s shoulder, “There’s no one else I’d rather die beside, so…save it, demon.”

Ahead, the rift glowed enticingly…so close now. Blocking the path, yet another of the undulating demons stood, guarding an orb no doubt containing yet more memories.

“Here we go again”, Alistair muttered.

Ysara laid a hand upon his arm, “We’re almost there.”

Hyperia wasn’t sure if the demon’s words had begun to get to them, or exhaustion, or just the aura of the place, but the battle seemed to drag on for far longer than the first. As the demon finally dissolved into its slimy remains, everyone…even the normally-indomitable Bull…seemed to sag in weariness.

Again, she approached the orb and was overwhelmed by the memories that surged through the Anchor.

 

> _Running…had she ever stopped running…?_
> 
> _Shapes skittering at her heels…her face upon the twisted forms of darkspawn…clawed hands reaching out to her…her own voice echoed in bestial snarls…_
> 
> _A glowing portal…atop a ruined staircase…so steep…_
> 
> _A voice calls out “Hurry! The demons!”…The Divine reaching out to her…_
> 
> _Hands clasp and Justinia stumbles…into the hungry claws of the demons…_
> 
> _“Go!”_
> 
> _A flash of emerald light…_
> 
> _Falling…ground hard beneath…voices faint, indistinct….fading…_

Blinking away the vision, her gaze falls upon Justinia, standing before them once more, “It was you…they said it was Andraste, but it was you behind me when I fell out of the rift. But…you…she died.”

“So we were right….you’re a spirit”, Alistair said.

A quiet sigh escaped “Justinia’s” lips, a profound sadness in her eyes, “I am sorry if I disappoint you.” As the words were spoken, her earthly form faded away into a form of pure golden light that lifted from the ground to float above them.

“So…why appear to be her?” Hyperia asked, squinting upward at the spirit, “Are you carrying her memory…her soul?”

“If that is the story you wish to tell, it is not a bad one.” The spirit’s statement actually elicited a quiet chuckle from Varric.

“Well, what we do know now is that the Divine was killed at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, thanks to the Grey Wardens”, Hawke grumbled testily.

Alistair rolled his eyes, “This again? I thought we already established that they were being controlled by Corypheus! We can debate this once we get out of here and back to Adamant!”

“Provided they and their demon army haven’t destroyed the Inquisition while we were gone!”

“So…what are you saying? Terrible actions are only justified when they’re your terrible actions?!” Alistair snapped. “You tore Kirkwall apart and supported the Templars’ slaughter of the mages!”

“To prevent the spread of blood magic…just…like…what is happening here!” Hawke spat back, her face inches from Alistair’s, green eyes blazing in anger. “But you’d ignore that because you can’t imagine a world without the Wardens, even if that’s what we need!”

“Would you two just…get a room!” Hyperia interrupted, arms crossed, an expression torn between amusement and frustration upon her face, “Maker…you’re like a married couple already. While you two bicker, there are demons pouring out of that rift and into Adamant! We have to get out of here and close it! There is no time for this…nonsense!”

All went silent as Alistair and Ysara both exchanged glances, then flushed abashedly. “Yes, you’re right”, Ysara said. “We can discuss this later. The rift is just up ahead.”

As they stepped into the vast chamber, the massive spider-like demon seen from the other side skittered into view, flanked by a hideous spindly creature that floated towards them with a ravenously gaping maw surrounded by flailing tentacles.

Images of horror invaded her mind…her body ravaged by darkspawn…Cullen mutated into a red lyrium horror….demons feasting on Alistair’s body…Leliana tortured again and again. When she thought she might go mad from it all, a warm golden light washed over them, the spirit Justinia’s voice echoing around them as it floated serenely towards the demon.

“If you would…tell Leliana…that I’m sorry….I failed her too…”

With that, the spirit…exploded, sending both demons reeling with horrible, piercing screams. As their vision cleared, the Nightmare demon had disappeared, leaving only the lesser minion between them and the rift leading home.

It shrieked, a sound akin to the wailing of a thousand tormented souls that carried upon it more images of horror and despair…but lessened without the Nightmare present.

It took every last reserve of energy they had left to bring the creature down. It flung its own minions at them in what seemed a never-ending wave as it continued to batter them with spells and visions of torment. When it was finally over, the only thing keeping them on their feet was the promise of freedom in the shimmering glow of the rift just ahead.

A glow that was obscured by the return of the Nightmare demon, its bloated body interposing itself between them and the portal. Despair flowed over them like a physical blow, even Alistair’s voice was heavy with it as he said, “Now what? How are we supposed to get around that?!”

Hyperia chewed her lip in thought and met the creature’s multi-eyed gaze…then took two steps to the right, the demon’s eyes following her.

“It’s me it wants”, she said with a heavy sigh. “I’ll distract it while you all get to the rift.”

“Are you mad?!” Alistair exclaimed, “How will you get out?”

“You’re the only one who can close the rift”, Cassandra said, shaking her head, “We can’t risk it.”

“I can do this”, she snapped back with a confidence she honestly did not feel, “Trust me.”

“You’re crazy”, Varric said, shaking his head, a crooked smile on his lips, “But you’ve gotten out of worse than this. So…you better be right. I still have quite a bit of story left to write for you.”

“I’ll make sure to give you some juicy bits, then”, she flashed him a grin before taking off at a run towards the far end of the cavern, away from the rift, firing off bolts of lightning at the demon as she did.

She felt a burst of elation cut through the exhaustion as the demon turned away from her fleeing companions to focus its attentions on her. “That’s right, you big ugly thing…come and get me.”

_You’re going to die….I will make it slow…you will never see the light of day or your beloved Commander again…_

Even as the demon battered her mind with horrible images of torture, death and despair, she launched another bolt of lightning from her hand, the other straying for a brief second to brush her fingertips across the coin at her throat. “I…don’t…bloody…think so!”

Daring a glance to the rift, she noticed that everyone had made it there and were frantically gesturing towards her. As she took off running, a spike-tipped tentacle writhed towards her. Taking a deep breath, she silently counted in her head as it drew closer, then activated the fade step spell, intending to jump herself to the rift.

Even as she felt it sputter and fade, her own words came back to haunt her from earlier in their trek….

_“Can’t you just use that fast travel spell to teleport us out of here and back to camp?” Varric had asked._

_“No. I don’t even want to think how that might work since we’re in the Fade and it uses fade-step…it could end up…messily.”_

_Oh Maker, I’m an idiot_ , was her thought even as the demon drove the barbed spike straight through her thigh, a scream of agony torn from her lips as she collapsed barely halfway to the rift.

“No!” She heard Alistair scream even as the demon moved to interpose its body between her and the rift. It wasn’t as though she could have moved anyway, pinned to the ground as she was. A burning sensation began spreading from the wound. _Poison…I have to…_ Gritting her teeth against the pain she knew would come, she sent a surge of electricity at the stinger impaling her, eliciting a scream of pain that echoed her own from the demon, the tentacle tearing itself free.

Her leg wouldn’t work…head throbbing and thoughts muddled. She could hear Varric arguing with…someone…”She’ll die if I don’t!”

Crawling…trying to pull herself upright and failing…

She looked up to see an expression of regret on the dwarf’s face an instant before his crossbow fired. Pain…again…stabbing through her shoulder, then a sharp jerk and the rattle of a chain as her body was dragged across the ground. Hands grasping her, then a flash of light.

A calloused hand patting her cheek, “C’mon Firefly, don’t pass out yet. I know it hurts…I’m sorry. Close the rift…okay?”

Blinking, a slash of emerald before her… Hand lifting on instinct, the snap-hiss of air pressure and a cheer rising from all around. Then blackness…

\------------------------------

_I have faced armies with You as my shield. And though I bear scars beyond counting, nothing can break me except Your absence._

The verse came unbidden to Cullen’s mind as he, and the surviving Inquisition members and Wardens waded through corpses of the fallen and demon alike. The waves of demons belched forth from the rift were never-ending and those forces left still able to fight were on their last reserves.

Even Thomas’ optimism had faded….Solas’ calm seemed shattered…and Sera had long since run out of japes and complaints. Dorian was white as a sheet and Cole seemed more ethereal than ever.

Then, echoing from the rift, a horrible demonic shriek…followed shortly by a woman’s scream…voices arguing…he couldn’t make any of it out against the chaos of battle. The rift flashed and bodies tumbled from it in a chaotic rush. Even as he thrust his sword through a demon, he fought to catch a glimpse of familiar red hair.

A hiss of emerald energy, followed by a muffled explosion of the rift closing. The remaining demons collapsed around them and a weary cheer rose over the fortress from the exhausted defenders.

With one last burst of adrenaline, he rushed to the group, eyes widening as they fell upon her unconscious form: skin deathly pale and body twitching with spasms, the Grey Warden uniform bloodstained and torn, left thigh mangled with a charred and bloody wound that oozed a foul blackness, her right shoulder still impaled by Varric’s crossbow bolt.  

“What did you do!?” Cullen roared, fixing the dwarf with a glare as he grabbed the lapels of his jacket.

Varric met his gaze evenly, defiance and regret in his eyes, “What I had to! Damnit Curly, she would have died if I hadn’t!”

Their confrontation was interrupted by Dorian and Solas who both knelt at her side, “You think you can manage the poison if I get the arm, Solas?” Dorian inquired with a raised brow.

“Yes, of course”, the elf’s sedate voice replied even as he hovered long-fingered hands over the wound, an azure-blue glow pulsing into the ragged tear.

“Alright Varric, I’ll need to you pull out the bolt. Carefully now”, Dorian murmured as a pale green glow began to form around his hands. “And does anyone have an elfroot potion or two handy?”

“I do”, Cassandra stepped forward, pulling two vials from a belt pouch and passing them to the Tevinter mage who popped the caps off of both and held them ready before turning back to Varric.

“Okay…go ahead…”

With a sympathetic wince, Varric pressed a tiny button concealed on the metal shaft and the grapple barbs re-sheathed into the bolt, allowing him to pull it free of her shoulder with a swift motion.

Her body arched as a strangled gasp was torn from her lips, blood pulsing from the wound for a brief moment before Dorian’s healing magic began to take effect, the wound slowly sealing.

“Okay…you need to wake up…just a little bit”, Dorian murmured softly, “Come on…there’s a very handsome Commander who will be extremely upset if you die on us…”

Her eyes fluttered for a moment to fix a pain-filled gaze upon him. “Good girl”, Dorian continued to pour what small reserves of mana he could dredge up into the wound as he swiftly emptied the contents of the two vials between her lips.

“How’s it going down there?” He glanced to Solas.

“Slow…the poison is cleansed, but whatever did this shatterd the bone. Mending it will take time”, the elf replied, his brows knitted in concentration.

“The potion should help a little, but we need to get her back to Skyhold so she can rest and heal”, Dorian replied, sitting back on his heels, his features pale and drawn.

As they spoke, the remaining Wardens seemed to instinctively cluster near Alistair, their gazes darting warily between him and the Inquisition forces. Finally, one spoke up, “And...what of us?”

One of the Inquisition soldiers stepped forward to address Cullen, “They did aid us in fighting off the demons, Ser.”

“We wish to make amends however we can”, the Warden replied, “for Clarel’s tragic…mistake.”

“’Mistake’?!” Hawke scoffed, eyes wide with disbelief, “Is that what you call it?!”

“Ysara…enough”, Alistair sighed wearily, “please.”

“We will abide by the Warden-Commander’s wishes”, the Warden said, glancing down at Hyperia.

Fighting through a groggy haze, Hyperia murmured quietly, “I am no longer your Commander…or a Warden. Alistair is your Commander now.”

A faint ironic smile tugged at Alistair’s lips, “I guess I am. If it were up to me, I’d say we do what we can to aid the Inquisition. But…I suppose that it’s up to them if they wish to accept.”

Hyperia nodded weakly, “We do. I know you will do what’s best…for the Wardens and Thedas, Alistair. You always have.” A faint smile curved her lips as he flushed in response and she faded back into unconsciousness.

There were a few voices of dissent, not the least of which was a disgusted grunt from Ysara and a quiet murmur from the boy, Cole, “The blood sings softly…it never stops. Then it’s all they hear. We can’t let them hurt more people.”

“Cole”, Thomas addressed him gently, “Wouldn’t it be better if they were with us…so they could be safe from Corypheus and we could try to help them?”

He turned those wide, distant eyes to him and then down to Hyperia, canting his head in thought, “She...wanted to help them. Make the song stop. Not just for her…but all of them. ‘No one deserves our fate’…” Blinking, he nodded slowly to Thomas, “You are right. They need our help. We can help them.”

“We will not fail you”, the first Warden vowed, rendering them a sharp salute.

“Okay…this is nice and all, but let’s get her back to Skyhold now”, Dorian piped up with a distinct weariness laced through his playful tone. “Ah ah…” He snapped out as Cullen moved forward, “You look like death warmed over, my dear Commander. You can barely hold your sword, let alone our lovely Inquisitor here. We can’t have you dropping her on her head now, can we? That wouldn’t do at all!”

“I got her”, Bull rumbled as he kneeled to gather Hyperia easily in his massive arms.

Solas fixed the Qunari with a tired, yet intent gaze, “Be careful, her leg is not entirely healed yet. I did what I could, but it will have to mend the rest of the way on its own. And the poison—“, he trailed off for a second before continuing, “Weakened her significantly.”

As Dorian prepared the spell and laid a hand on Bull’s arm, he canted a glance towards Cullen who was watching them with an expression of indecisive misery.

“Will you be joining us, Commander?” Dorian asked with an impish sparkle in his eyes.

“I—can’t, I should—“, he began before Cassandra strode in to cut him off.

“Go…you’ve done what you can here and look like you could use some rest yourself.”

“But I-- Thank you”, he sighed in relief, flashing her an exhausted smile of gratitude before moving to join them, one hand falling upon Dorian’s shoulder.

“Ready everyone?” Dorian flashed a crooked grin to Bull, “Don’t forget to close your eyes this time, you big ox.”

“Got it”, Bull replied with a lopsided smile of his own.

“And…off we go…”

In a flash, they appeared within the designated tower and Dorian sank to his knees, waving off their concern before it was voiced, “I’ll be fine…just give me…a minute. I’ll catch up.”

Cullen and Bull walked most of the way to her quarters in silence. Only as their footsteps echoed through the main hall, Bull piped up quietly, “So….you and the Boss, eh?”

Cullen had been so absorbed in his own weary thoughts, the question took him off-guard, “What?” A flush rose to his neck as it finally registered and he glanced down to Hyperia’s unconscious form cradled in Bull’s arms, “I—that’s…well, none of anyone’s business.” Exhaustion made him testy and he wasn’t in the mood for Bull’s teasing.

“I’d be shouting it from the rooftops if I was the lucky guy”, the Qunari shrugged.

Footsteps echoing through the hall behind him forestalled Cullen’s reply, as Dorian caught up to them just as they began to ascend the staircase to her quarters. “Miss me? Of course you did”, Dorian finished with a grin.

The quartet entered her room and Bull laid her carefully upon the bed while Dorian eyed the fresh scars over both wounds, brows furrowing in thought. “I must admit, the elf did a fairly decent job. It’ll take a few days before she can walk on that leg though. Probably shouldn’t go swinging a staff around either until the shoulder’s fully healed.” Dorian tossed an impish glance to Cullen, “I’m sure you’ll find ways to keep her off her feet.”

Cullen’s neck flushed bright red as Dorian began gently tugging off her boots, “Come on, we’ll get her out of these clothes and…” His words trailed off in laughter at the look on Cullen’s face, “Oh come now, she’s a lovely woman and all, but if I was going to ogle someone while they were half-naked, it would be you.”

From the corner where Bull lounged against the doorway came a deep cough and Dorian flashed the Qunari a grin, “You already run around half-naked, big guy.”

“And you love it…admit it”, Bull grinned.

“I’m certainly not complaining…but, now is not the time for this. Come, Commander, let’s get her tucked in.”

A few minutes later, the pair departed and Cullen found himself alone on the edge of her bed, just staring down at her pallid face, features drawn with pain. Her fingers twitched as a quiet sob tumbled from her lips.

Taking her hand in his, he leaned in to gently lay his other upon her forehead, brushing the sweat-damp tendrils of hair still clinging to her face. With a soft gasp, she awoke, eyes wide and darting to him, the terror gradually replaced with relief.

“Cullen…you’re—“, her voice caught as her fingers tightened around his, then dropped to a whisper, “Tell me you’re real.”

“I am…I promise”, he replied, brows furrowed in sympathetic pain as he leaned in to kiss her forehead.

Tears leaked from her tightly-closed eyes, “Thank the Maker…it’s over? Everyone…made it out of there?”

“Yes”, his head canted in slight confusion, “You don’t remember? You accepted the Wardens into the Inquisition.”

Frowning, her eyes opened and searched around the room as though seeing it for the first time, “I…think so? It’s all so hazy…like a dream. This barely feels real…” Her gaze alighted on their conjoined hands, the faintest of smiles tugging at her lips, but a profound sadness in her eyes, “…like it’s all going to dissolve away at any moment.”

“It won’t”, Cullen gave her hand another reassuring squeeze.

The smile slowly grew, a slight hint of humor in her eyes, “You…look awful as I feel.”

He chuckled quietly, sliding his free hand through his hair, “It’s…been a very long day.”

“Stay with me…please.”

“Always”, he pressed a kiss to her hand before divesting himself of his armor and clothes and sliding in beside her. “You’re so cold”, he murmured with concern as he gathered her into his arms.

“I know you’ll keep me warm”, she whispered, nestling against him as they both faded into a deep and well-deserved slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lordy, this chapter kicked my ass so hard! Even though it's about 75% gameplay with slight edits to account for Hyperia's status, I had a very rough time with getting it all down in a way that didn't drag on too long, but covered all the necessary events. Plus, trying to juggle what all the companions were doing...both in the Fade and at Adamant...was a challenge because I didn't want to forget anyone (I feel like the Inquisition would have "all hands on deck" for a full-scale assault like this). Even though I've had it planned in my head for quite awhile now, the ending was what really kicked my ass. It needed tension and angst...then sweet sadness at Skyhold...but Dorian and Bull kept trying to make jokes. I'm not averse to it, but it was getting out-of-hand every time I tried to write it. I'm hoping it came out with a decent amount of feels. I wanted to do Cullen's POV for it, but there were so many things going on and characters to juggle, I decided to just make it "reader POV". Will probably switch over to his brain next chapter.
> 
> I hope no one's disappointed that I didn't go full-on tragedy and sacrifice Alistair or Hawke. This option keeps both of them alive (because I have plans for them in the future) and Hyperia being forced to take down-time gives me an excuse to finally use some of these filler/fluff chapters I've started writing (along with some I still have in my brain).


	36. The Morning After the Night Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Hyperia thought that being wounded meant that she would get to take a rest from being the Inquisitor for a few days, she quickly discovers just how wrong she is when most of Skyhold invades her quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very grateful "Thank you" goes to my beta-reader, [Candelilla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candelilla) for taking the time out of her busy schedule to read over this for me! She's been kind of "beta-reading" after the fact for me for several chapters now...pointing out typoes, grammar errors, and redundancies (along with leaving very helpful comments).

_“Why?”_

_The voice echoed through the fog, familiar despite the ragged torment that turned the words into a strangled rasp._

_“Why did you leave us? You should be dead…but instead you became their favorite plaything.”_

_The flaming sword of the Templar Order emerged first, emblazoned on armor spattered with blood and gore...then the face, well-known even savaged and mangled as it was: Beval. Laughing, boisterous Beval…who always had a joke to crack, was the friend he could always count on to get him into…or out of…trouble._

_Blue eyes that had won over the most stubborn of female hearts were now ruined sockets, leaking blood and aqueous humors. Flesh half-flailed from the skull, leaving patches of exposed bone and muscle gaping through, flaps grotesquely as he speaks._

_“Why? Come join us…we’re waiting…”_

_The blood dries, solidifies, and his features heal and shift to another Templar…older, a crooked smirk upon thin, dry lips._

_“Yes, Knight-Commander, why did you leave? You could have had power untold.” The voice was sardonic, rough, “You could have stood at the Elder One’s side.”_

_The armor shifts, darkens, crimson crystals thrusting through the steel….through his flesh…glowing red veins pulsing beneath the skin, eyes smoldering with a fervent fire._

_“It’s not too late…join us…” A chalice of shimmering fluid of liquid ruby is forced against his lips. He tries to push away, but even now he can feel it working under his skin…a pressure holding him down as the foul liquid slides down his throat._

“No! Get away!”

The fog dissolves into sunlight and the glowing red of lyrium fades into a deep auburn, framing eyes of gold staring down at him with concern.

“Cullen! It’s just a dream!”

It was her hand on his chest, shaking him…not restraining...that he had flailed at in his terror. Taking a deep breath to try and slow his racing heart, he sank his head into his hands, trying to shake the visions that had plagued him for years.

“I’m sorry”, his voice was muffled as he scrubbed his hands over his face, “Without lyrium to suppress them…the nightmares…”

“It’s okay”, she murmured, fingers weaving a comforting trail through his hair as she leaned in to press a feathery kiss to his sweat-damp brow, a playfulness to her tone, “I guess we’ll both have to get used to many sleepless nights…for good or ill.”

Cullen couldn’t help but chuckle at that, “I suppose you’re right.” His gaze fell upon the still-raw scar that marred the bronze skin of her left shoulder, “How are _you_ feeling?”

Following his gaze, she gave the shoulder an experimental roll, then winced. “It hurts….my leg hurts…blasted everything hurts to be honest. But I need to….”

As she started to rise from the bed, Cullen laid a hand upon her good shoulder and shook his head, “No. Dorian said that you needed to rest and stay off of the leg for at least a few days.”

“Wonderful”, she groaned, sinking back onto the bed, “I suppose I shouldn’t complain. Maybe…just maybe…this means I’ll get a break from being expected to save Thedas for a few days.”

Her lips twitched into a bemused smirk as he laughed, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to them, “I would not count on it.” Even as he spoke, footsteps echoed from the stairwell beyond her door, “As I was saying…”

“Oh, that’s probably just Alara with my breakfast”, her brows furrowed as a sharp knock sounded on the door, “Though she’s usually much quieter.” Shrugging, she called out, “Come in!”

The door swung open to reveal, not the elven servant, but Alistair, decked in full Warden armor and carefully balancing a full breakfast tray in one hand, “Well, good morning!” He called out cheerfully, an impish grin on his face.

Cullen released a rather un-Templar-like curse while Hyperia’s face turned a brilliant scarlet as she pulled the coverlet up to her neck, “Umm…good morning? What are you doing here?”

Alistair smirked as he placed the tray upon the low table beside the sofa, “Oh look at you two, all blushing. It’s not as though I haven’t seen you naked before, my dear. And the fact that you two are sleeping together isn’t exactly a secret. All of Skyhold is positively in a twitter over it, actually.” Flopping unceremoniously onto the couch, a boyish grin upon his lips, he shrugged, “I was just coming up to see how you were doing after last night and ran into your girl bringing breakfast…almost literally. So, I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone…not literally. Don’t let Leliana know I said that.”

“’Don’t let Leliana know you said’ what?” A bemused voice with a familiar accent echoed from the doorway, causing Alistair to jump in surprise.

“Andraste’s flaming…how do you do that?!” He sputtered at the red-haired spymaster lounging against the doorframe.

“I was a bard, remember? It’s sort of what we do.” She shrugged before turning her attention to Hyperia, “I had heard you were badly injured at Adamant. I am glad to see that you seem to be recovering well.”

“Aside from being stuck in this bed for a few days and feeling like I’ve been put through a meat grinder, I’m fine.”

“Good! Then you shouldn’t have any problems with writing your report on what happened, I assume? I’ve been hearing some rather…interesting, yet disturbing tales.”

Hyperia rolled her eyes, “Lel, always the slave driver.”

As they spoke, Cullen leaned in to murmur, “I’m going to get dressed”, as he tried to inconspicuously slide out of bed to gather his clothing and armor from the top of the dresser.

“Could you fetch me a nightshirt while you’re there? Second drawer,” Hyperia called out, unable to resist smiling at the blush that rose to his face as all eyes suddenly snapped to him.

“Um…of course”, Cullen muttered self-consciously as he quickly rummaged through the drawer and handed her the shirt.

“Oh, I see my timing is impeccable, as always!” A bemused voice echoed from the doorway. “I did not realize that you were going to take my desire to see you half-naked to heart, Commander, but I’m most certainly not complaining!” Dorian teased with a grin.

Fighting back laughter as the flush spread to more than Cullen’s face, Hyperia smirked at the Tevinter mage, “Andraste’s ass, is all of Skyhold planning on making an appearance this morning?!”

“I have a perfectly legitimate reason for being here”, Dorian sniffed an indignant retort, “As one of your healers, I need to check on your wounds.” His lips tugged into a sly grin as Cullen disappeared into the washroom, “However, had I known there was going to be breakfast and a striptease, I would have been up much sooner!”

Dorian then settled onto the edge of the bed to examine the indented scar marring Hyperia’s shoulder. “It looks like it will heal up just nicely.” Leaning in,  he whispered conspiratorially, “You didn’t exert yourself too much with our dear Commander, did you?”

She rolled her eyes and playfully punched him in the arm, “Naughty man…we just slept.”

“Good, save it for when you’re all healed up”, he waggled his eyebrows at her as he drew back the covers enough to expose her wounded thigh, his lips pursing in thought. “Hmm…yes, this will definitely take a few days to mend. Whatever sort of poison that thing had was nasty. Solas seems to have purged it all, but it did quite a bit of damage before then. If it had been in your system much longer, you might have had to lose the leg.”

Hyperia shuddered;  her gaze fell upon her leg. It was the first time she had seen it since she was dragged from the Fade. There were subtle veins of purplish-black surrounding the ragged, discolored scar, giving it a tainted, sickly appearance.

“You’re sure this will heal?” She asked hesitantly.

“Absolutely”, Dorian replied, a faint emerald glow trickling from his palm to the wound. The corruption seemed to fade slightly in the wake of the healing magic. “It will be back to normal in no time! Just don’t move it around too much.”

As Dorian tugged the bed covers back over her leg, she quickly pulled on the nightshirt and gestured to the tray, “Alistair…could you?”

Alistair grinned, “Of course!” Lifting the cover from the plate, he inhaled the savory aroma wafting forth, a sly smile curling his lips as his eyes roamed over the meal. “Your breakfast, my lady. I see they made your favorite”, he paused dramatically as he set the tray upon her lap, obviously reveling at the confusion on her face, “…two sausages.”

At his lascivious wink, she groaned, “Alistair, you’re awful”, as Leliana released a tiny snort-chuckle and Dorian raised a brow.

“Oh? What’s this all about?” The Tevinter mage inquired slyly. “Sounds scandalous…”

“What does?” Cullen asked as he emerged from the washroom, once again dressed, with his hair sporting wavy curls as he ran a hand self-consciously through them.

“Nothing!” Hyperia snapped in exasperation. “Just….Maker’s breath…” She muttered, her cheeks turning scarlet.

“I guess that we shall just have to wallow in our ignorance, Commander…for now!” Dorian flashed a grin to Cullen, who looked deeply confused.

“I…suppose”, he shrugged before leaning down to place a quick kiss on Hyperia’s forehead. “I need to see to the troops. I’ll come check on you later.”

“I’ll try not to die of boredom in the meantime”, she chuckled as he flashed her a smile and followed Dorian from the room.

As the pair disappeared, she snatched one of the napkins from the tray, balled it up and tossed it at Alistair’s head, “You are….impossible!”

“Hey now!” He yelled, batting it aside where it landed at a pair of perfectly-manicured feet clad in elegant silk heels that had just stepped through the threshold.

“Now darling”, Vivienne’s heavily-accented voice commented drolly as she lightly stepped over the napkin, “Is that any way to greet the person bearing your invitations to the most anticipated ball of the decade?”

Hyperia tried to keep her expression neutral as the Orlesian enchantress stepped into her quarters with a gait that reminded her of a wyvern stalking prey . She never liked the woman and her condescending attitude, “Madame Vivienne”, she greeted her coolly, extending a hand to take the proffered invitation.

The parchment was obviously quite costly, the calligraphy in fine ink infused with tiny golden flecks and stamped in a bright azure wax with the Imperial seal.

_Her Imperial Majesty, Celene Valmont, Empress of Orlais_

_Cordially extends this invitation to_

_The Lady Hyperia Amell and Her Husband, Warden Alistair_

_To Attend a Masquerade Ball_

_At the Winter Palace of Halamshiral_

_On the 12 th day of Wintermarch, 9:41 Dragon_

She started skimming over it just out of curiosity, then abruptly blinked, brows furrowing before darting a glare to Vivienne, “Wait…what is this ‘Her Husband, Warden Alistair’ about? We’re not…”

“Yes, darling”, Vivienne replied with an idle wave of her hand, “I know…you’re not married anymore. But have you forgotten that the rest of Thedas does not know that?”

“You could have just told them!” She sputtered indignantly.

“And deny them the opportunity to bask in the presence of the two darlings of the Fifth Blight? Perish the thought! Do you know what a scandal that would be?”

Even Alistair seemed taken aback, “I can’t…go to a ball! I have to get to Weisshaupt! And, even if I could…pretending to be married again? What happens when they eventually find out it was all a lie?”

This time it was Leliana who spoke up, “As much as I hate to admit it, she’s right. If you don’t attend, it will be seen as a grievous slight. And, as far as when they find out…well, it’s all part of the Game. Pull it off while you’re there and they’ll respect you all the more for playing it so convincingly.”

“I’m going there to prevent an assassination, not…impress a bunch of snotty Orlesians!” Hyperia sputtered indignantly.

“You’re going to have to do both, my dear”, Vivienne replied icily.

Before she could continue, Leliana nodded, “You’ll have to win their favor if you hope to get anywhere near the Empress. If Alistair declines, then you might as well not bother going because they won’t even let you through the gates.”

As Hyperia groaned, Leliana chuckled, “It can’t be that bad. And it’s not like you don’t have experience in being a married couple. Just…act like you did then.”

Alistair rolled his eyes, “We mostly fought…then she ran off.”

“Hey! I—“, Hyperia began before Leliana interjected.

“Fine, then…act like you did before you got married…during the Blight.”

“Sooo…sneaking off to skinny dip in the pond in between killing darkspawn, then?” Alistair deadpanned with a smirk.

“Ugh!” Leliana grunted as she grabbed one of the pillows from the couch to hit him with it, “You know what I mean!”

“Ack! Yes! Fine….don’t hurt me!” He cried out as he tried to fend off her attack. Leliana dropped the cushion back onto the couch smugly as he rose with a sigh, “Ysara won’t be happy about this.”

“I can imagine that our dear Commander will be less than thrilled as well”, Vivienne speculated with a faint smirk cast in Hyperia’s direction.

Hyperia groaned, “I’ll tell him when he comes back up later. Lel, if you want me to get that report done, can you bring me some paper and a pen from my desk, please?”

“Of course”, she said as she crossed the room to retrieve them. “I‘ve already arranged to have several dress samples sent here for you to try.”

“Darling, you really should let me take care of that”, Vivienne sniffed.

“Yes, yes”, Leliana sighed impatiently as she handed a sheaf of blank parchment, a quill and ink pot to Hyperia, “You know Orlesian high fashion….as do I. But I also know her tastes.”

“In more than just clothing, I’d surmise”, the Orlesian enchantress tossed smugly over her shoulder as she turned to stroll from the room.

Leliana watched her go, then let out a snort of disgust, “I do not know how that woman has managed to stay alive in the midst of the Game for so long.” Releasing a heavy sigh, she shook her head, “Actually, I do…ugh.”

Hyperia frowned at the weight of the papers, then extricated a book hidden amongst them, her cheeks flushing, “Leliana…what--?!”

Her friend just flashed a grin, “Why are you looking at me that way? It was on _your_ desk! Getting ideas?”

Hyperia huffed indignantly as she concealed the copy of “Swords and Shields” beneath the pillow beside her. “Like I need a book for _that_.”

“Good point”, Leliana grinned. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. I have scouts returning from the Emerald Graves to debrief. Enjoy your day in bed!”

“Right”, she replied sarcastically to her retreating back, “Alone…with my reports. Thrilling.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of what will probably be many fluff and filler chapters to come. I have several already started that I've just not had a decent place to place them, so since Hyperia's stuck at Skyhold for a few days and there's plenty to do in preparation for the Ball, I'm going to be cranking them out! There will be fun, fluff, and maybe even a little angst and/or smut!  
> Enjoy! Kudos and comments are always welcome and appreciated!


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